


Smells like Teen Vigilantism

by AKA_Green



Series: Jackass Teenagers [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, And Lots of It, Angst, BAMF Avengers, Bad Jokes, Blind Character, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dad Coulson, Deaf Character, Families of Choice, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Italian Tony Stark, Jewish Bucky Barnes, Mind Control, Multi, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Puppy Piles, Swearing, Team Dynamics, Team Fluff, Team as Family, Vigilantism, but of snuggling teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 61,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9108508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKA_Green/pseuds/AKA_Green
Summary: Phil turned over his tablet. “Look at this.”“I’m amazing, I’m incredible-” Iron Man said on screen. “Bow down before the Iron Man!”Three people immediately do so, mockingly. “All hail the Iron Dick,” The Black Widow said.“My dick is pure gold, excuse you. All of you would jump at the chance to get some of this,” Iron Man gestures to his crotch with both hands.“I’ve been reviewing stuff like this for months,” Phil said. “I’m so tired of dick jokes.”Fury laughed at him.Or- A bunch of teenagers decided to form a vigilante team and destroy the corrupt while making bad dick jokes and being the assholes they were meant to be.On hiatus for massive renovations plus the development of a really long prequel! Sorry! Not abandoned though!





	1. No Turning Back

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thank you for reading my story, I promise to post updates and hope you enjoy! Please read the warnings, but remember this story is lighter than what is mentioned below. The warnings are simply highlighting what people might not be comfortable reading.
> 
> (story reads best when u click 'entire work' )
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THE FOLLOWING - Character faking a suicide which is discussed several times. Past character abuse, not vividly described. Mentions of human experimentation and a little bit of actual human experimentation that is not vividly described. Kidnapping of grown men who can handle themselves and some kids in government captivity for brief amounts of time. Brainwashing, because Loki and Hydra. Violence. Blood, because people get hurt. Child soldiers, or at least, children meant to be soldiers but decided to fuck off. Ableism. 
> 
> If you see anything else, please mention it in the comments!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning.

“We do this, there’s no turning back,” Tony said. “This is serious stuff, guys.”

The library table of teenagers was absolutely silent, all frowning and thinking seriously. Natasha turned and quickly signed what Tony said to Clint, who watched her hands and looked just as serious as the others.

“Like, we’re planning on running away and becoming vigilantees,” Tony continued. “We get caught as vigilantees, we go to jail. If we get found as missing foster kids, we all go back into the system, and it'll probably even worse than it is now, with overbearing watchmen keeping an eye out. This is _very serious_ , so I need to know, right now, if you all still want to do this.”

“I’m in,” Steve said firmly, not missing a beat.

“Wherever Steve goes, I go,” Bucky added, shuffling in his seat.

“M’in,” Clint whispered, almost too quiet to really hear.

Tony looked at him and felt cold, calm fury in his veins at the reason behind the quiet voice. Clint’s foster parents _took his aids away because he ‘wasn’t listening anyway._ ’ Tony was ready to actually punch one of those shitty ableist foster parents.

“So am I,” Natasha agreed. Tony couldn’t tell if she was reading his mind or not, but decided that she probably meant that she was up for being a vigilante.

Bruce nodded solemnly to show Tony he was up for joining and started cleaning his glasses.

“I’m in,” Matt said, tapping the end of his cane anxiously.

“Me too,” Sam said with the same amount of steel in his voice as Steve.

“And I’m always with you, Tones,” Rhodey said honestly.

“Okay.” Tony blew out a breath and considered their situation. “Okay. There’s nine of us, so we need to be careful about this. We need to go to Stark Manor in New York City. It’s closed down, locked, and abandoned until I turn eighteen, so it's the perfect hiding place. We can’t all go at once, though, so we need to make a plan. We're all divided into levels of importance in _The System_ , high profile and low profile, more or less. Bucky, Natasha, and I are high profile because of my fame, the fact that HYDRA’s CEO is fostering Bucky, and Natasha is a part of the Red Room, which is a ballet studio that secretly teaches its recruits to kill.

Tony continued. “Matt, Bruce, Steve, Sam, Rhodey and Clint are low profile because of ableist, racist, or classist reasons... and that fact that you are considered a troublesome teenager. Looking at you, Cap.”

Steve shrugged, not looking upset at that at all. Bucky bumped shoulders with him and grinned.

Tony rolled his eyes with a smile on his face. He then continued, “The low profiles need to run away, excluding Matt, who needs to be kidnapped. Nobody is going to believe the blind kid is running away, because of, again, ableism. If you run away, people will pay more attention because they think you can be found easily. Now, the high profiles. I'll run away, because if I get kidnapped again and show up when I turn 21 to take over the company, people will ask questions. I think Bucky should fake a suicide, and Nat needs to run away. We all need to leave at different nonlinear times and the high profiles need to attract attention away from everybody else.”

Natasha nodded. “That sounds right. I won’t attract a lot of attention in the media, but the Red Room will be looking for me.”

“How do I... How do I fake a suicide?” Bucky asked nervously.

“I’ll write something up for you," Tony promised. "You’re going to need a suicide note and to move your stuff before you pretend to jump off a bridge. Think you can manage?”

Bucky nodded slowly, shrugging a bit. “Sure.”

“Okay, we’ll meet back here tomorrow and I‘ll have everything planned out and arrangements made. After we get to the mansion, we’ll have to lay low until the fuss dies down, which will give me time to make our stuff and go over what we plan to accomplish as a vigilante group.”

“Destroy the corrupt,” Natasha said instantly. “ _Blood, blood, blood, blood-_ ” she whisper chanted.

“Yes, thank you, beautiful, creepy vampire queen. But we need to figure out how and when, right?”

“...Fine,” Natasha allowed.

“We can have Steve design the outfits and I’ll have them fabricated and made. Everybody game?”

Everyone nodded and murmured to each other.

“Court’s adjourned,” Matt chuckled, grabbing his braille textbook and cane. “Sam?” He held out his arm.

“Yeah, man, let’s go. Biology, right?” Sam bumped Matt’s arm with his own, allowing the boy to grab it.

“Yeah. See you later guys,” Matt said and everybody groaned at the awful pun.

 

* * *

 

“Okay,” Tony said, putting down eight thin manila folders. “Here’s everything. Now, clearly, those who run away will take their shit with them and leave brief notes saying how they hate the foster house and a false destination that sounds realistic. I have transportation options and disguises planned out. Here you go,” he said as he passed Bruce, Steve, Sam, Rhodey and Clint their packets.

Tony cleared his throat and then turned to Matt. “Matt, I’m going to kidnap you the same day I run away, so here’s your stuff in braille, of course, because I’m not a monster.” He slid over the folder and Matt opened it, feeling along the bumps. “I'll grab you on your way to school, so just put your stuff in your bag.Only bring what is absolutely necessary. Don't bring anything that can be replaced and nothing that shows you were planning on being nabbed.”

Tony turned again. “Bucky, your suicide route. I need you to give me your possessions before I leave. If you take shit with you, nobody is going to believe you did the deed. I’ve planned for Rhodey to hang out under the bridge and get you, so you two will travel in a pair. You two will be the last, by the way, so blame your suicide on the fact that all your friends have abandoned you, or something. I know it’s sucky, especially to those who are actually suicidal, but it’s the best option right now.”

Bucky shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m running away to _New Jersey_? Tony, gross,” Steve complained.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine, make it Brooklyn. Bruce, change yours too because I planned for you two to running away together. Okay, Nat, here’s your escape plan, it’s meant to lose any trackers you might have and provide transportation.”

“Thank you.”

“And here are burner phones for everybody, and all the names and numbers are already in there. Matt, I’ve turned on what limited accessibility settings there are.”

“Thanks.”

“And here are your disguises. They project an entirely different facial structure over your own. I’ve been working on these for a few weeks.”

“This feels like sticky mesh or tape,” Natasha said, holding up the thin clear fabric, a tiny wire looking thing alongside it.

“Well, it kind of is." Tony rubbed the back of his head. "Sort of. It's more technical than that. But anyway, it doesn’t change skin color, but does everything else. Also, you all need to temporarily dye your hair a different color. Nat, here's black, Steve, brown, Bucky, bleach. Matt, still kidnapping you. It’s unnecessary for now. Clint, red.”

“N’ce,” Clint mumbled, grabbing the box.

Tony slid over another box. “And some hearing aids, but don’t use them yet. They’re part of the disguise and nearly invisible.”

Clint's face lit up in a mixture of relief and delight. Clint nodded enthusiastically and signed his thanks.

“You got… a lot done,” Bruce said, sounding impressed.

“I did, and I think you need to go sandy blonde,” Tony advised with a nod as he tossed the box of hair dye his way. “Bucky, here’s a fake gun for your suicide. It’s got something similar to a blank. Put it under your chin, pull the trigger, flash and bang, and then fall back. We need to make it obvious so people are only looking for a body. There are too many cameras in the area.” Tony passed over a box wrapped up like a birthday present. “Happy birthday, you're turning dead.”

Bucky laughed.

“Okay, since the fall should drop you into the river, I’m attaching a device to the bridge in the drop zone that will automatically attach to your ankles and slow you down so Rhodey can catch you on a raft.”

“I have a raft?” Rhodey asked, confused.

“Well, you have a raft _now_.” Tony passed over what looked to be two seal boxes of tissues glued together top to bottom. “It’s disguised. And an anchor is included. There are instructions in your packet. Also, use your phone or a flashlight to show Bucky that you're there, as a precaution. It’ll be dark. And um, yeah that’s it. Any questions?”

Nobody piped up, so Tony assumed everyone knew what the plan was.

“Alright, now I’m going to run away next week and kidnap Matt. That will start the whole shebang. Can’t wait too see you all in New York.” Tony gave a little lazy salute and walked away. “ _Caio_!”


	2. Matt and Tony's Great Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fake kidnapping is a favorite of mine.

Matt gave a little strangled cry as Tony yanked him into the van, promptly dropping his glasses. Tony slammed the door shut and hopped in the driver seat, slamming on the acceleration.

“Sorry,” Tony said unapologetically, voice muffled by the ski mask. “Hope I didn’t scare ya.”

“I’m fine,” Matt dismissed from the van floor. Just chilling, like this happened every other day.

“Okay, good," Tony said honestly. "You got your stuff?”

“Yeah.” Matt put his arm up in the air, thumbs up.

“Sweet. Okay, so here's the plan; we’re going to ditch this van in a junkyard in a bit and trade off with a car I fixed up there. Then we go a ways and hide out in a dingy motel, leaving with the face modifiers.”

“You said so in the packet,” Matt agreed from the back. “My God, we’re really doing this.” He said it like the reality was just hitting him at last.

“Yeeep.” Tony drummed on the steering wheel. “Yeah, yeah it’s happening. Hey, I picked Bucky’s stuff up on the way, so grab that bag too. It probably smells like sadness and homicidal intent, because he threatened to kill me if I lost it-”

 

* * *

 

“Alright, here we are. It’s three blocks to the mansion, so grab your stuff, Bucky’s bag, and let me put the mask on.”

Matt unbuckled and turned to Tony. “Lay it on me.”

Tony very carefully tacked it on, Matt’s face shimmering and his blank eyes sharpening to sparkling blue. “Nice job, Cheekbones McGee. Nice freckles,” Tony laughed.

Matt rolled his eyes and Tony plastered his on, checking in the mirror for any changes. His nose was bigger and his eyes looked sadder than they actually were. “Yikes. Well, I look nothing like me, so we’re set. Leave the cane in your bag, just in case.”

“How will I-?” Matt asked uncertainly, folding it up anyway.

“We’ll hold hands," Tony said, like it was obvious. "We only need to get into the secret entrance, then I’ll give you a tour and let you familiarize yourself with the space. Cane or no, depending on what you want. I bet I can print a 3D floor plan too, because the space is huge. Or I can get JARVIS online.”

Tony left the keys with the car. “It’ll get towed by the morning and the plates are fake,” he explained to Matt.

Matt shrugged, unconcerned, and held out his hand. Tony took it and beamed.  “Come on, _sweetheart_ , let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

“This place is huge,” Matt said with wide eyes, his head tilted so he could hear better as he dropped his stuff, peeling off his mask.

“Your super hearing telling you that?” Tony looked around the basement filled with cars. He could only see his dad’s tastes in them and couldn’t wait to tear them up for parts. He already had some ideas for transport.

“Yeah. You have a pool, did you know? It’s empty right now. That's what I hear; the empty space.”

Tony considered that. “Is it in the center of the building?” He asked, curious.

“Just about,” Matt confirmed, nodding.

“We should set up rooms there. It sounds easily defendable and most of the windows are open in the rooms surrounding the house,” Tony thought out loud.

Matt tilted his head and then clicked sharply, pausing again. “I suppose they are.”

“Well, since you seem to have a handle on this, we better set up. Let’s drag mattresses and blankets and pillows and shit to the pool room. We got cleaning to do too.” Tony ran a finger over the desk top to his left and found a gross amount of dust and grime on it. He could practically call it a new layer of earth.

“I have a feeling that you just want to have a massive sleepover,” Matt said with a chuckle.

“You’ve caught me," Tony said, feigning guilt."But! There are enough beds and blankets to make a fucking giant fort and I bet that pool is fucking Olympic sized.”

Matt listened, made a sharp click with his tongue, listened, and nodded. “It is.”

“Fucking awesome, this will be great. There’s only one year of dust over everything and I know exactly where the cleaning shit is. As soon as that’s done, we call Steve to confirm that we’re all cool.”


	3. Setting Up Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home sweet home.

“It looks amazing Matt," Tony announced proudly.

“Does it? I couldn’t tell.”

“You are such a little shit, you know that?" Tony asked. "Well, it looks fucking massive, like a sea of goddamn blankets.”

“Blasphemy,” Matt said quickly.

“Sure, Jan." Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Okay, from up top, it looks like a bunch of sheets taped to the edges, with holes at the ladders. Inside, it’s just endless mattresses and blankets. It looks like heaven. It's like a blanket bouncy house."

“Sounds like a good comparison," Matt agreed. "Color scheme?”

“Mostly reds and blacks and greys," Tony said after checking. "Starks aren't known for diversity of color. However, there are a mix of other blankets that clash a bit, so really it’s just a mod podge.”

Matt hummed. “It’s all muffled down there, through the blankets.”

“You can navigate okay though, right?” Tony asked.

“Well enough.”

“Okay, good, because I can fix some stuff if you need it,” Tony said.

“I’m fine, but thanks.” Matt smiled.

“Sweet.” Tony gazed at his masterpiece for a minute proudly before saying, “Okay, let’s call Steve.”

Matt pulled  the burner phone out of his pocket and handed it to Tony. Tony went to speed dial and put in _ST_. As soon as it started ringing, he put it on speaker.

_“Hello?”_

“Hey Cap," Tony greeted. "It’s me, remember, no names as a precaution.”

_“Oh, hey! How are you guys?”_

“Fine. Made it safe and sound,” Matt said. “Who’s coming here next?”

_“Red is making a run for it on Wednesday and I’m bouncing with Big Green next Friday. I’ll tell everybody else you're safe. Hey, you see the news? People are going crazy over that Stark kid being gone. No mention of the other guy.”_

“You’re so subtle." Tony rolled his eyes. "Now remember, you guys gotta act worried at school, mostly because that’s the only connection we can’t break. They are going to notice that we all went missing, but we have to take the chance.”

_“You got it, mastermind. Listen, I gotta go, but call again tomorrow, yeah?”_

“You got it Captain. Bye!”

 _“Bye,”_ and he hung up.

“All according to my plan.” Tony cackled like a villain and Matt hit him with his cane.

 

* * *

 

The next day Tony and Matt went down to the sub-basement, his dad’s lab, again.

“Yikes,” Tony said, holding a can of corn with a spoon stuck in it in one hand. Matt gripped his elbow as Tony weaved around the equipment. “This place needs to be scrubbed cleaned before I can start working on anything.”

There was the strong smell of oil and grease in the air, tools and parts were strewn around, bottles of whiskey and Jack in random places. Under one wall was broken glass, likely where Howard threw a bottle. Pieces of machinery were sometimes obviously broken or misplaced.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Matt asked.

“Not really. If there is, I’ll tell you, but this stuff is dangerous for even an advanced mechanic.” Tony narrowed his eyes and looked about the messy area and groaned in annoyance. “Jesus, some of this isn’t even properly stored!”

“Can I sit, then?”

“Yeah, here.” Tony guided Matt to a swivel chair. “This good enough for you, Lord Matthew?” Tony teased.

Matt struck a pose like a king, legs crossed at the knee and and hand up, pretending to hold a goblet. “Well enough, plebeian.”

Tony barked out a laugh of surprise and went to straighten up his old man’s giant mess of a workshop.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, and... done.”

Tony stood back, feeling filthy but accomplished. Everything was organized and stored correctly. Glass swept up, alcohol dumped (or stored, for emergencies), and the whole nine yards. He set aside the tech that needed to be fixed and sorted the file cabinets as well. Each blueprint was stored as well and Tony felt like it was the cleanest this dump has ever been.

He looked over at Matt, who had passed out in his chair, cane dangling from his wrist. Tony sighed and walked over, carefully picking up the other teenager and carrying him from the shop.

“Woof, you’re solid,” Tony grunted. "Fucking boxers."

Matt snored into his shoulder.


	4. Natasha and Steve and Bruce, oh my! And lets not forget the Bird Boys!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7 out of 9, we're almost there!

Just as planned, Natasha showed up Wednesday. Of course, her arrival was not announced and Tony was too busy to notice the time, so she ended up scaring the ever loving shit out of him. Matt, the legitimate Batman, was unphased as she shouted " _Boo_!" right into Tony's ear. Tony jumped about ten feet in the air and fell over.

“You didn’t tell me on purpose!” Tony accused from his safe spot on the floor, pointing at Matt with a wrench.

Matt smiled. Widely.

“You little shit!” Tony snapped. “I have a heart condition-!”

Matt and Nat both groaned. “We know!” they shouted at the exact same time, making Tony jump again and yell “Fuck you guys!”

Natasha burst out laughing and Matt grinned into the palm of his hand, trying to hide his amusement.

Tony glowered until they all calmed down. Tony sighed and relaxed into the floor, unable to remain angry at the pair. “Okay, so how was my genius plan?”

“Worked like a charm. Thank you, Tony.” Nat smiled. “You saved my _tail_ ,” she joked.

“Was that a _following-people pun_?!” Tony snapped, suddenly angry again.

 

* * *

 

“This place is huge,” Steve said in awe, the scrawny boy putting his duffel bag down next to Bruce’s suitcase.

“You haven’t even seen the half of it,” Tony said, grinning. “We set up a massive sleeping area in an Olympic sized swimming pool. I’ve been working on installing a TV, gaming systems, a DVD player, a VHS player, and a whole buttfuck of other stuff into the wall. It’s going to be the best massive sleeping pile on this side of the Mississippi.”

“A nap sounds- really good,” Bruce said, yawning and stretching. “Your instructions were very precise, but they were also very time consuming.”

“You got it, science bro, let me show you your corner, you can ditch your shit too. I’m working on setting up drawers and niches for everybody in the same area without it protruding into the mattress area, you should see it. Oh! And a refrigerator for snacks and stuff. And a microwave, but no stove. If it needs to be cooked on a stove, it can be cooked in the kitchen, is what I say-”

 

* * *

 

Clint and Sam showed up seven hours later than they were supposed too with a cups of Starbucks and covered in what looked to be birdseed. Natasha swatted Clint, sending a spray of seed off of him like sand, and yelled at him in Russian for worrying her.

Steve frowned at Sam in disappointment. Sam squawked, “What?!” and then got punched in the shoulder. This, of course, made the two start play fighting.

Matt asked why they smell like birdseed, confirming what Tony was seeing, and they sputter several different lies while flushed red.

They never did get the story out of them, but Matt also said they smell like burnt rubber and tobacco while they were all in the mattress room watching a movie with both audio description and subtitles.


	5. Bucky Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for heavy subjects! See the notes at the top of the first chapter for warnings if you need it.

Last but not least, Rhodey and Bucky arrive.

Exactly on time, Rhodey blurted, “Isn’t first class air travel a little suspicious or, y'know, obvious?”

“You would think,” Tony said, putting up his index finger. “But one, if they were checking flights, they would definitely look in third class, or whatever, and two, I thought you two deserved a break because I literally had Bucky fake a suicide and the only reason you didn’t get any attention by running away is because you’re black, which is racist and wrong, so I decided you need something nice too.”

Rhodey stared for a minute. “You know what, damn straight. I had to watch Bucky shoot himself in the face and look, even though I knew it was fake, it looked real as fuck, and damn was that trippy as fuck. I though he was actually dead for a second there, so yeah, I fucking loved first class.”

Bucky nodded wordlessly and Tony frowned. “Bucky? You okay?”

Bucky hesitated and then shrugged.

“Don’t want to talk about it?” Tony guessed, watching Bucky nod. “Okay then, come on, we’ll watch movies and eat shit food until the sun comes up. We got a mother fucking blanket fort and I know Steve is up for cuddling. He keeps fucking spooning me in the middle of the night.”

 

* * *

 

“It happened again,” Bucky said quietly, once the lights went out and all of them were cozy and warm.

Tony felt his heart leap into his throat and sympathy fill him from head to toe. His heart ached for Bucky, thinking of exactly what Bucky had explained to them in tears so many times before. He reached out to hold Bucky’s hand and saw Steve doing the same, bypassing the missing arm and putting his hand on Bucky’s chest.

“The day before Rhodey and I came," Bucky continued. "I had to talk to Mr. Peirce and everything got fuzzy again.” Bucky's voice was already rough. Rhodey shifted to put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, helpign the others ground him.

Natasha reached over to play with Bucky’s hair soothingly. Clint’s aids were out, but he realized that Bucky was shaking and his eyes were wet, so he reached out and wrapped his hand around Bucky’s ankle. Bruce put his hand on Bucky’s hip and Matt reached up to grab Bucky’s calf lightly, rubbing his thumb over the muscle there. Matt started tapping out Bucky's words in Morse on Clint’s hand, fast as lightning.

“It was all black, l- like usual, but when I sn-snapped outta it, I was- I was all covered in blood,” Bucky sobbed. “It was- it was just everywhere and I was just so sc-scared of what I- what I did and don’t remember that- that I just _stared_ and stared, but the blood was still there. I-I was in my- my room again and Rumlow was there watching over me like usual, b-but he left when I- I looked up so I ra-ran for the bathroom and threw up until I couldn’t any more.”

Sam put his hand on Bucky’s stomach soothingly as Bucky continued sobbing through his words. “I took a shower because I was dripping _blood_ everywhere, hot as it could go be-because I felt filthy, like I’d never get clean, and then I realized that it was time to go, so I wrote the- the note and thought about actually doin’ it ‘cus I’m _dangerous and I don’t even know what I’m capable of_ , but- but I didn’t ‘cuz I knew you were all waiting for me and- and-” Bucky started actually crying out then, not finishing as tears flowed down his cheeks.

Steve shifted until he was flush against Bucky and put his head on the other teens shoulder.

“You’re safe here, and we will protect you, no matter what. You’re our family, and you’re safe and that will never happen to you ever again, I fucking promise.” Steve said, holding Bucky tight as he tried to stifle his cries and shaking. 


	6. Name Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast of crap food and making up vigilantee names is the best way to spend a morning.

Tony crossed his legs, sitting in his PJ’s with a box of donuts on his lap the next morning. He looked down, surprised to find he was missing two more than he had. People were _stealing_ out of is box, too! Rude. “Alright!” he said, putting his arms around his box protectively. “Now that we have all escaped the perils of _The System_ , we need to come up with our vigilante team and what the fuck our uniforms or costumes are going to look like. Code names too.”

Steve opened his mouth and put up a finger and Tony said, “Other people can veto names!”

Steve glared.

“I will be the Black Widow,” Natasha said, passing half of her donut to Clint, who was also eating stale Doritos from a bag them left open last night.

“Why?” Matt asked curiously.

“We were training to be Black Widows in the Red Room. It seems appropriate.” She shrugged and wiped jelly off her lips.

Tony considered that. “Yeah, okay. Sounds sexy, mysterious. Fits.”

“Never call me sexy again.” She said solemnly, putting a hand on Tony's shoulder.

“Sounds dangerous, mysterious,” Tony concluded.

She smiled. “Better.”

“We get to design our own costumes, right?” Sam asked, eating a bowl of cereal, a jug of orange juice in the crook of his knee.

“Yes,” Tony said. “Down to the seam. Steve and I will work together to make them a reality.”

“Can you make toast in a microwave?” Matt asked as a non-sequitur from the food station, hand on the fridge and a considering expression on his face.

“No,” Tony said. “It doesn’t work like that. I think we have hot pockets, though, so try that, but they will be hot as hell.”

“I want wings. That make me fly,” Sam said. “And my code name will be Falcon. I like falcons, they’re cool as fuck.”

“Falcon. Falcon," Tony tested it out. "‘ _Falcon, I need you at the drop zone, ASAP. Falcon, report!_ ’ Yeah, Falcon works. Any vetoes?”

“Nah,” Steve said, popping his medication before drinking stale and lukewarm soda. “I’ll be Captain.”

“Captain what? Just Captain?” Tony asked.

‘You guys always call me Cap, I don’t see why not,” Steve shrugged.

“I just think it needs a little more ‘ _umph!_ ’ You know?”

“Captain America, because his birthday is July Fourth,” Bruce said sagely.

“Yes! Thank you!” Tony pointed at Bruce.

Steve stared at the wall for a second. “Yeah, okay. I’ll bite. Captain America. Stands for truth, justice, and the American Way.”

“Fits you to a T, Cap.” Tony nodded. “Chancellor?” Tony looked at Matt, who was struggling with his molten Hot Pocket. “Any ideas?”

“Daredevil,” Matt said instantly, and yelped with he burnt himself on his Lava Pocket™.

Tony blinked. “Uh, okay? Any reason why?”

Matt dropped the plate on his blanket, food side up, and blew on his hands. “My dad, he was called Jack ‘The Devil’ Murdock, in the ring. He was called that because he fought, you know, like the devil. My grandmother said that ’Those Murdock boy’s got the devil in them.’ And you guys all know I’d jump into a fight no questions asked, so Daredevil. I guess? It just feels right.”

Tony nodded. “Daredevil, Captain America, Black Widow, Falcon. Nice. A good line up there. Okay, uh, Clint!”

Clint shrugged. “I want to work with a bow  again, so maybe Bullseye.”

“Overdone,” Tony said instantly.

Clint sighed. “Yeah, thought so too. Maybe something about my aim? Or eyesight? It’s better than most.”

“Is it now,” Matt deadpanned.

Tony thought about it for a second. “How about Hawkeye? Hawks have the best sight, and you’ve even got an eye in there somewhere. And 'Hawk-eyed' meaning having keen eyesight.”

Clint nodded along to Tony’s words. “Yeah… Yeah! Hawkeye! Hawkeye! The world's greatest marksman! I like it!”

“Hawkeye, Captain America, Black Widow, Falcon, Daredevil. Now it’s just Bruce, Rhodey, Bucky and I.”

Rhodey flushed. “Um. I’ve got one. It’s uh, War Machine.” Tony started laughing and Rhodey hit him with a pillow. “Shut up, it’s cool!”

“It kind of sounds like _washing machine_ ,” Tony cackled, falling over into Rhodey's lap.

“Shut up and let me explain,” Rhodey pleaded.

Tony took eight or nine deep breaths. “Okay, buttercup, lay it on me.”

“Well, my mom and dad were both air force, and my dad named his jet War Machine. I always wanted to fly it, but it got-" Rhodey looked deeply uncomfortable and sad. "It’s a tribute, y’know?”

Tony considered. “War Machine,” he tried it out again. “You know what? It’s not so bad. Okay Bucky, your turn.”

Bucky had been staring at Matt’s hot pocket and reached out, quickly stealing a bite. Just as quickly, he threw it back, waving at his face with his hands. “Hot!” He choked out.

While being laughed at, he grabbed Clint’s stale soda and washed down the hot pocket with that. Capping the root beer, he said, “The Winter Soldier. I think it’s what they called me when I was…” Bucky waved his hand. “I don’t want it to be a name for a murderer anymore.”

“Nice. Symbolism,” Tony said, making the O.K. sign. “Bruce?”

Bruce shrugged and took a bite of his perfectly respectable waffles that he went all the way to the kitchen to make, like a schmuck. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, let’s think about this." Tony said, putting his hands out like he was framing a picture. "You’re power is your split personality activating when you get angry, the fear response triggers the activation the gamma radiation in your blood which turns you into a lean green jelly bean. What do you call the other personality?”

“I just call him the Other Guy,” Bruce quipped. “But he, um, calls himself the Hulk,” he admitted almost shyly.

“Lady and gentlemen, the Hulk! The strongest one there is!” Tony, Natasha and Clint all applaud and Bruce groaned in exasperation.

“Then what about you, Tony?” Steve asked, stealing Sam’s orange juice. Sam made a deeply protesting noise.

 Tony smiled at his friends. “Well, dear old dad always said that ‘Stark men are made of iron’ so I’m going to be Iron Man.”


	7. Of Costumes and Metal Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard Stark is the kind of man who leaves stolen rare metals around and nobody can tell me otherwise.

Steve talked to the rest of the team for three days before coming to Tony with a packet of detailed costume designs. Over coffee, and caffeine free black tea, they looked at them together.

“I want a shield,” Steve said, pointing to the page. “I don’t want to carry guns. I’m fine if other people do, but I don’t think I can aim a gun at someone.”

“A gun with tranquilizer rounds,” Tony pointed out. “Everybody is getting specially designed temporary tranqs that leave no trace behind. Like magic.”

“It’s still a gun, Tony.”

“Okay, yeah, well, fine.” Tony shrugged. “I’ll dig around in dad’s stuff and see if I can find titanium of something. Give you a giant metal frisbee.”

“Alright, and I want a navy blue suit, and since I’m Captain America, I added a few stars and wings on the side of the helmet.”

“Hey, nice,” Tony looked approvingly at the drawing. “Utility belt, fashionable. Should we put an A on the helmet?”

“What for?”

“ _America_ , duh.”

“It can also stand for 'Asshole,' ” Bucky said from fucking nowhere, making Tony scream a little and fall out of his seat.

“I have a heart condition!” Tony announced, putting a hand over his arc-reactor.

“So does Steve, calm down,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

Tony glared from the floor. “Just for that, no awesome metal arm. I had open heart surgery in a cave-!”

“Aw, come on! You made Clint hearing aids-!” Bucky pleaded.

Tony let out a groan and covered his face with his hands. “Finnnnnneeeeeee.”

 

* * *

 

Tony strapped the completed metal arm onto Bucky and set up the sensors along Bucky’s spine in quick movements. “Okay… Looks good,” Tony said, double checking the placement and the readouts on the monitor. “Okay,” he said finally. “Try it out.”

Bucky rolled his shoulder, blinking when he arm responded. Slowly, he managed to bend his elbow and then roll his wrist. He wiggled his fingers, putting them into a fist, and then looked at Tony in wonder, who squirmed under the stare.

“It’s nothing,” he said.

“Tony, you gave me back _my arm_ ,” Bucky said. “I never thought-” he cut off, flexing his arm, splaying his fingers out and then clenching them again. “This is the best day of my life.”

“Aw,” Tony said, opening his arms. “Hug time, bring it in.”

Bucky almost crushed him and Tony had trouble breathing for the next five minutes.

 

* * *

 

Tony squinted at the suit design and then up at Rhodey. “We’re going to be matching as _fuck_ ,” he announced in delight.

“Hell fucking yeah,” Rhodey said with a grin.

“Different colors though.” Tony pointed out.

“Yeah. It‘d be weird if we were the same. And I want guns.”

 

* * *

 

“What’cha doing?”

“Smelting vibranium-adamantium alloy,” Tony answered Steve’s question. “Please stand about ten or twenty feet away, this is hot enough to light fire to skin.” Tony himself was dressed up in all the protective equipment he could find and was still a bit nervous.

“Apparently dad had some _very rare and very expensive_ metals just laying around. Pft." Tony rolled his eyes, carefully pausing in his work as he did so. "He probably stole it from Wakanda, knowing him. But this shit is the fucking bomb. It’s energy absorbing, bullet proof, everything proof, and perfect for a shield. I’m just going to pour it into the mold and let it cool the fuck down.”

Tony began carefully pouring the bright white liquid into the cast, Steve standing a good fifteen feet away and squinting.

“Round shape?”

“Yep. Giant metal frisbee, remember? How’s training with everybody going?”

“I had to use my inhaler three times,” Steve huffed with a laugh. “But I’m getting better. Nat’s been working on gymnastics and hand to hand with me more than endurance.”

“Good. Because you are not built for running far distances, no offence.”

“None taken. With any luck, we won’t have to run any distances.”

“Alright,” Tony finished up. “Now, we wait. I’m going to work on getting JARVIS connected to the security systems in this house. Tell Clint his bow is fabricating and I need arrow ideas.”

“Oh, you got JARVIS up an running?” Steve asked curiously.

“Mostly. He isn’t quite up to par… He’s having word troubles, and I need to fix that,” Tony explained.

“Word troubles?”

 _“What sir means to say is that when I reach the end of a sentence, I say the wrong cranberries.”_ JARVIS said.

Steve blinked. “Oh. Okay. Uh, I’ll leave you to that. Nice to hear you again, Jarvis.”

_"Thank coleslaw.”_

Steve snickered a bit.

“I’ll get it fixed,” Tony promised. “So, what are you doing down here?”

Steve jerked his thumb toward the door. “Natasha ordered pizzas to the secret entrance.”

“Count me in.”


	8. Weapons Galore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guns, knives, a few more guns, a shield, a bo staff/billy club, and literal fucking wings.

“I need to to bite into these to make retainers,” Tony said passing over eight specially ordered molds.

“Why,” Clint asked, as Matt felt along the item with his hands, frowning.

“Voice modulators, to make us sound older when we’re out busting heads. Completely hidden. I know this will be gross, so I thought we should do it all at once. Get it over with. Then, I will give everyone their weapons and stuff as a reward. I got it in the best flavor, we haven’t eaten breakfast, and the sink is right there to spit in.”

Clint shrugged and shoved it in his mouth biting down. Everyone else followed suit.

Natasha’s eyes started watering and Tony could see that everyone was powering through tears of disgust and discomfort except Matt, who just seemed uncomfortable and was otherwise resistant. Tony glared, because there was shit all over his face and this was awful.

 

* * *

 

“Alright! Now that we are over that,” Tony said to the group after spitting out that disgusting goop and rinsing. They had also eaten breakfast to send the taste away. “We can now do weapons. Let’s go down to my shop.”

The other eight trailed after Tony, excitedly discussing what they had asked for. Tony threw open the doors and gestured to the table. “Voila!” he said. Everyone went over to their name tag and looked at their equipment except Matt.

“I put your stuff at the end of the table, come on, I’ll show you.” Tony led Matt over and put what looked to be a cane in his hands. “This is a disguised pair of billy clubs. You can use it as a cane too, instead of your old one, if you like.”

Matt looked impressed. “How do I...?”

Tony put his hands over Matt’s and twisted. The ends contract into the two main sticks and they pop apart with a neat click. “Just like that. The opposite reforms it. Also, you can connect the two with a line so you can yank them back if you’re planning on throwing them. That’s right here. It acts kind of like a plug,” Tony said, putting Matt’s fingers over the inside to feel the end of the line.

“Also, you can uses it as a Bo staff at full length,” Tony added.

“This is brilliant,” Matt said. “Thank you so much!”

“Aw, it was nothing,” Tony flushed. “I’m, uh, gonna go tell the rest of them about their equipment.” Matt nodded and smiled, so Tony showed the collection of guns and knives to Bucky and Natasha.

Sam put on his wings and Tony explained how to use the guns stored in the wing pack.

He showed Clint his bow and the selection of arrows in the quiver and how to select and activate them too.

He showed Bruce, who didn’t really want to hurt anyone, a taser and a paralytic sound device. Both non-lethal and meant for only self defense.

Rhodey and Tony’s armors were still in construction, but he was looking over them anyway with glee. Because they were both sixteen, and still kind of growing, Tony was only working on the helmet, the chest piece, the gauntlets, and the boots. When they are both adults, they plan on building full suits, but for now, this suits their purposes fine. Rhodey’s was weaponized with guns, but Tony is sticking with repulsors and miniature missiles and explosives.

“And Captain, my dear Captain, your shield.” Tony yanked off the cover to expose it in all it’s silver beauty. A gleaming metal shield, polished to perfection and carved with a star surrounded by two rings, sat neatly on the table and everybody oohed, making Tony and Steve laugh.

“Alright, alright. Now, vibranium and adamantium are the strongest and lightest metals in the world. Adamantium is magnetic, but vibranium is not, so it have special magnetic properties that I am incorporating into your suit. Anyhow, vibranium absorbs nearly all vibrations and has little friction so it bounces like a motherfucker. You’re going to like figuring out how to use it, Cap.” Tony passed it over with great relish.

“Wow,” Steve said, running a thin hand over the surface, “This is amazing.”

“Why, thank you,” Tony said, pleased.


	9. Final Preparations and Flying SUVs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony would defiantly make a flying car for this kind of bullshit.

“Training is shit,” Tony said into the mat. “Ug!”

Steve laughed from the balance beam and then wobbled, stiffening his arms. He had his shield on one arm to get used to the weight and feel of it and his feet were straight up in the air, which was amazing, in all honesty. “Well, ‘ _The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in battle_ ,’” he quoted. “Plus, it’s good exercise.”

“Hey, how’s the news surrounding us?” Matt asked from the punching bags, sweat trickling down his face and back.

Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked some sites. “Still some light questioning around me, though people really think I did just run away and will show up to take over SI when I’m older. There's some real criticism aimed towards HYDRA Industries over Bucky’s suicide. They found the video and the note went public. People are speculating about it, by the way. Some think it wasn't telling everything. And there's nearly nothing about any of the rest of you,” Tony concluded. “Except Matt, because he’s a ‘ _poor blind boy_ ’ who got nabbed and is probably ‘ _so scared_ ’.”

Matt scowled and went back to his bag.

 

* * *

 

“Costume call!” Tony shouted and instantly people started filing in, Matt looking a little startled. Tony felt a little bad about that.

He shook off. “Great! Okay, so it took a while to develop a material that is bullet proof, knife proof, electricity proof, fire proof, water proof, resistant to radiation and most acids, doesn’t wear, and is light enough to breath, but I did it, so I was finally able to have these made." Tony gestured greatly to the outfits before him.

“Steve, your costume is a neat navy blue with silver highlights. Your utility belt can hold nearly anything you might need, including smoke bombs, regular bombs, medication and inhaler. Also, before I forget, your voice modulators,” Tony handed them all over to the group.

“Back to Steve, your helmet has those adorable wings painted on, and the protective goggles have night vision and heat detection. It covers all of your face except your mouth. This strap under the chin, of course, is adjustable. Boots, high friction so you don’t slip, and a slot for a knife, as a precaution. Gloves have metal built into them to hit harder, like brass knuckles, and give a little jolt of electricity upon firm contact. Your right forearm has magnets specifically tuned for the vibranium-adamantium combination of the shield. Just clench your hand and hit the button on the side of your knuckle. Index finger.”

“Wow,” Steve said. “Can I try it on?”

“Go ahead. Natasha, you beautiful scary assassin, you asked for a mix of a SWAT uniform and catsuit, so here is a thin suit with a neat helmet and goggles that I guess kind of look like ski goggles. The mask that covers the face is thin but the same material, so you get hit in the mouth with a bullet, you’ll just get a split lip. Thick pants and red knee and elbow pads. You’ve got gun holsters on both thighs, knifes on both calves, and your boots are similar to Steve’s. No heel, of course, and super flexible for your creepy spy tendencies. Red gloves, tactical vest that’s been thinned down. You like?”

“I love,” she corrected. “I’m going to put it on too. We should train wearing out armor as well. Build up familiarity.”

Halfway into his suit, Steve looked up. “Yeah, let’s get dressed and go to the gym to try them out,” he agreed.

“Alright. Sam, same sort of body design as Nat, but no vest and it’s got the same idea as a wing suit. Your helmet is attached to the suit and the visor is red and V shaped, but shows clear on the wearer's side. Both Nat and your goggles have the same abilities as Steve's. Black gloves, just as neat and thin as Nat’s. They’re supposed to fit well. Boots have knives, and have no friction like the rest. The torso is built to have the wing pack on, so it should be even more comfortable.”

“Sweet!” Sam said, grabbing the suit and looking at it closely. “Mostly black with red and grey accents?”

“To match the color inside the wings,” Tony agreed. “Matt, you have a dark red and black fencing suit, to be blunt. The helmet goes all the way around though, and maximizes and protects your hearing too. If there's a loud blast, or something, it will muffle sound a bit and then revert to normal.”

“Wow.” Matt looked impressed and thankful.

“Also, you’ve got adorable devil horns on the top of the mask. Gloves have the same reinforcements as Steve's, and the boots, again, are heavy on friction to avoid slipping. You also have a holster for your billy clubs. Knee pads and elbow pads in black. The top part of the suit is a little different from a fencing outfit, actually, because it has a sort of form fitting vest, more or less. Utility belt with smoke bombs. Other people need vision, but you sure as fuck don’t. Raise some hell.”

Matt laughed, and picked up the helmet, feeling along it and poking at the horns.

“Clint, simple suit, max protection, elbow, knee pads, free arms for flexibility of shooting, shooting gloves similar to Nat’s and Sams, of course. Goggles, helmet, face mask. The goggles maximize vision, but if you need a clear sighting you can turn it off. Your ear protection has the same idea as Matt’s too, so you don’t fuck up your hearing aids and have to fix them mid-battle.”

“Nice,” Clint nodded.

“Bucky, your metal arm will be exposed, and your costume is based off Natashas, only your goggles and mask are different and you don’t have any color accents. Your mask is hard bullet proof plastic and makes you look a little like an assassin. Helmet is form fitting. Guns on thighs, knives on calves, and a pistol on your back that you reach for like so,” Tony put his hand behind his head so he was touching the spot where his back met his neck. “And your gloves are like Steve's.”

“Awesome,” Bucky said.

“Bruce, your clothes have stretch properties and are mostly for protection, unlike everyone's else's. You’ve got holsters for your taser and paralytic. Goggles are like Natasha’s and the helmet is like Bucky’s.”

“Ah, thanks.”

“Rhodey, and I have the same kind of suit and helmet in different colors, gauntlets that shoot repulsors, lightweight chest plates, and boots. My colors are red and gold, and Rhodey's is grey and darker grey. His arc-reactor is red though."

“Sweet as fuck,” Rhodey agreed, putting on his helmet.

“Rhodey’s is also weaponized with a mini Gatling gun, and he has thigh holsters. Both he and I have matching body suits to protect our squishy bits.” Tony pat his stomach. “And that’s it! Lets try them on.”

 

* * *

 

“I. Look fly. As hell.” Sam said, looking at his reflection and flexing. “And hear this sweet adult voice? This is cool as fuck, Tony, you are a god.”

“I am, aren’t I,” the helmeted human said.

“I bow before the mighty Iron Man,” Natasha’s adult voice said. Raising her hands and bending at the waist a few times.

“Plebeians!” Tony drawled. “My loyal servants, and underlings-” he yelped as Rhodey’s arm wrapped around his neck and noogied his helmet. “Ahh!”

“Alright, so we need two or three weeks to train in our new uniforms,” Steve said. “While we do that, we can plan our first attack and who it will be on.”

“We’re bring down HYDRA,” Tony said, shaking off Rhodey. “First and foremost. They need to burn.”

“Okay, so we need a plan of attack,” Steve said. “Training first.”

 

* * *

 

“Flight tests,” Tony said. “For us fliers. We need to be graceful, and able to move in the same way with human cargo.”

“So we’re giving a grand debut?” Rhodey questioned.

“We’re flying around the city, yeah. We’re going for fast and neat. We don’t want any trouble, but if people spot us, no big deal. Just try to stick up high and take no shit. I’ve got the comms all programmed so we can talk and when we come back around, we’ll pick up a human and redo the route.”

“Won’t people notice us landing?” Sam asked.

“Not if we do it right,” Tony quipped. “Also, we’re landing on this roof. Still. Avoid the mansion unless it’s life or death. Seriously. Okay, I set up some checkpoints to meet at, JARVIS? Pull them up.”

The HUB’s flickered to life on Rhodey’s and Sam’s goggles and they made surprised noises.

“Aw man that’s sweet as fuck.”

“Everybody ready? Go!”

And the three blasted off into the night whooping and swirling through the air as they took to the glittering night sky.

 

* * *

 

“The _piece de resistance_ ,” Tony gestured. “Our transport.”

He pulled back the sheet to show a beautiful, sleek, modified car. “A black Suburban Chevrolet SUV with just enough seats and repulsions in the tires for a flighty get away.” He beamed. “It has technology that makes it vanish from radar, invisible to the naked eye, and almost noiseless when in flight," Tony boasted. " “Now, because it only had seven seats, I installed two more in the back for two flyers to drop and go when it’s opened.”

“That’s awesome!” Sam announced already climbing in to investigate.

“Neat,” Natasha said simply. “Can it be hot-wired?”

“No, I made sure. Keys or fingerprints only.”

She nodded in approval.

“Also, it’s weaponized with repulsors in the head and taillights and has two Gatling guns,” Tony added.

“Nice!” Rhodey said.

“And, extra safety features are in place, as well as auto pilot and evasive maneuvers.”

Bruce gave a relieved smile.


	10. Cauterization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get it? Because of how a hydra works? And what gets accomplished in this chapter?
> 
> I'm proud of that title.

“Okay,” Steve said through a handful of popcorn. “Give us what you got,” he finished.

Tony rolled over onto a bag of chips and put the holographic blueprints for the top floors of HYDRA Industries in front of everyone. Bruce shifted in interest and flicked it, watching the hologram turn.

Matt stared past it. He clicked once, and frowned. “I can’t see it.”

“Yeah, sorry. I still can’t get hard light to work. But I have these sheets that have raised lines for walls and stuff.” Tony passed them over and Matt felt along the page.

“Okay, so this place is pretty heavily guarded, especially the safes we’re raiding and the computer terminal we need to get to. The plan is to release the files showing HYDRA’s illegal activity to the public, let the sharks and the police force take them down. We’re going to need to go guerilla warfare about this. Hit them hard, in and out, lots of damage, leave no evidence of us. I have JARVIS on standby to shut down power to certain areas, but we need a plan on infiltration,” Tony said.

“We need to go in the window,” Steve realized. “And work down to the safes. See? On the fifty sixth floor,” he added for Matt, who shuffled papers and nodded. He pointed. “People guard around the areas they think people want to get to, so defense is set up around it on the lower floors, as if any possible attack would be coming from the lower floors and then up. If we start at the top and work down, we can get to the safes while Tony hacks the computer. Going through the office they think we're aiming for is our best bet to catch them by suprise.”

“I like the way you think, Cap,” Tony said. “Matt, you got it?”

“Yeah, I like it.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “We need two teams. Natasha, Bucky, Sam and me. Then Matt, Tony, Clint, and Rhodey. Bruce, you stay in the car as backup and the getaway driver.”

“Okay.” Bruce nodded. “I’d rather not be in any action anyway. Bad for my blood pressure.”

Steve smiled and pat Bruce's shoulder before looking back to the tablet. “My team will be melee, rip down defenses and bust heads, and Tony’s will be hacking and backup. Quick in and out. All the files need to be dumped. Every single one on the internet. The people need to know exactly what HYDRA is doing to people. What they did to Bucky, the people they killed, everything.”

Tony nodded in agreement. “Avengers, assemble,” he murmured their call.

“Okay, so can we watch Matilda now?” Clint asked.

Tony collapsed the file. “Yeah, if you pop the popcorn. I want caramel corn.”

“But I like butter.”

“Your point being?”

“I’m making butter.”

“No.”

Clint tackle hugged Tony and held him there until Tony shouted out that he can have the stupid fucking butter popcorn. Matt said that Tony’s popcorn is too sweet anyway and Tony smacked him with a pillow hard enough to make him fall over, after which Matt flopped over Tony and went limp in retaliation.

Somehow they end up in a massive cuddle pile over Tony while watching Matilda and Tony finds that… this is really, really nice.

 

* * *

 

“Lady and gentlemen, please keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times and tip your captain on the way out. Thank you for riding Stark Airlines,” Tony said, starting up the car, dressed to the nines in his armor.

Natasha, sitting in the passenger seat, held out her fist and Tony lightly tapped it.

“Here we go kids, everyone bucked, mouthpiece in, armor on, everyone went to the bathroom and ate?”

“We’re fine, _Mom_ ,” Clint said, kicking the back of Tony’s seat repeatedly. “Let’s go already.”

Tony started up the engine, activating the repulsors in the tires and waiting for the tires to slowly bend down until they were facing the floor and the car lifted into the air with ease. “Activating stealth mode,” Tony said, flicking a switch. “And here we go, motherfuckers.”

Tony revved the engine and drove the car through the tunnel to the surface, narrowly missing the wall as he curved up and out, corkscrewing until they were up in the stars, hovering above the glittering cityscape.

“The view-” Steve said awed.

“Whaddaboutit?” Matt said, making half the group groan.

Steve sighed, resigned. “I’ll try my hand at sculpting later. ‘S about time anyway. Everybody knows the plan, right?”

“I shatter the window,” Clint said. “And we swoop in.”

“Teams of four, Br- Hulk takes the wheel,” Natasha added. “We went over it three times today, Captain.”

“And we always use our code names,” Matt added. “We are going to _ace_ this.”

“ _Ace Attorney_? That was low even for you, Daredevil,” Tony said. “But we definitely are. What’s the victory plan?”

“Team bath,” Natasha said. “I found a tub the size of a hot tub, a bit longer. It is perfect and I will dump bubble bath in it and I have many bath toys.”

“What? Naked?” Tony asked, looking back and then putting his eyes back on the ‘road’. He didn’t like bodies of water, on principle, but the idea was appealing and he discovered he could take baths if joined by someone he trusts a little while ago.

“How else do you take bathes?”

A sudden memory hit Tony square in the face. “In a three piece suit!” Tony chortled. “You guys ever hear about the time I found my dad drunk in the bath? Oh god, he drove straight from a gala hammered off his face and just went in dressed in a ten thousand dollar suit and passed out!” Tony cackled. “Oh my god, it was the fucking worst.”

Natasha snickered and Bucky laughed out loud. Everybody else snickered or rolled their eyes.

They drew closer to the HYDRA Industries Headquarters and Bucky let out a breath that sounded loud in the quiet car. Tony lazily turned the car so Clint was facing the building.

Tony rolled down the window and set the car to hover.

“Hawkeye,” Steve said, watching as Clint draw his bow and notched an arrow, the point barely outside the opening. “ _Go._ ”

Clint loosed the arrow, which streaked toward the glass and blew up on contact, a concussive blast shaking the building and cracking the next five nearby windows.

Tony flew the SUV inside and parked with a jolt. “Here we go!” He shouted. “Hulk, the wheel! Initiate defense protocols!”

Bruce climbed forward as everybody yanked open the doors and slid out, already forming into groups and running.

“Split!” Steve snapped, and they pulled away, Steve and his crew going down the stairs, beating down grown men who were yelling orders to each other as they went down with darts to exposed skin or with a shield to the face.

Tony’s repulsor blasts found chests and stomachs as Clint’s arrows pinned clothing to the walls and Matt’s billy clubs hit home, tripping people and cracking against skin and armor. Rhodey was flying around with his guns in hand, knocking the HYDRA goons out with quickly fired tranquilizers.

“Computer terminal is just the next floor down,” Tony said. “Stairs to the left and-” he blasted the locked set of double doors off it’s hinges and flew in. Matt, hot on his heels, used Tony’s shoulders to jump up and kick the newest assailant in the jaw, landing on his toes neatly and delivering a swift and powerful uppercut that downed the stunned goliath.

“Uh, thanks.” Tony grabbed Matt around the waist and flew over the stair railing, swooping down to the next door. Rhodey did the same for Clint and then smashed the door off the frame with a powerful kick.

Alarms started blaring wildly and Matt scrunched up his nose in disdain. “War Machine, Hawkeye, on the stairs. Keep them off us,” Matt said. “HYDRA personnel coming from below; fifteen men.”

Tony let go of Matt and sped through the doorway, finding himself in one of the biggest computer terminals he’d ever seen. Rows and rows of data blinking with multicolored lights sat before him and Tony looked around carefully before approaching the computer. His slim gauntlets contracted into vambraces in a swift movement and Tony’s gloved hands flew over the keyboard, pausing only to slip a flash drive into place.

“Starting the data dump now,” he announced. “Captain, your end?”

 _“We’re in the safe room. Winter’s trashing the chair to bits and I’m looting the recordings and files from here,”_ Steve said through the comm. _“Widow is uploading the files from here too, just like how you said. Falcon is on watch out.”_

“There are more men coming. He’ll need backup,” Matt said, cocking his head.

 _“Widow, show ‘em who’s boss,”_ Steve commanded.

 _“Yes, sir, Captain America, sir,”_ she said with a grin in her voice, probably sauntering away, and the sound of cracking knuckles filtered over the ear piece.

“Data dump at forty percent,” Tony said. “Hey, Cap. How’s yours?”

 _“Ah,”_ Steve checked. _“Thirty, forty, fifty-”_

“Yeah, most of it is up here and our AI works fast,” Tony explained. “These motherfuckers aren’t going to get away with anything.”

 _“Damn straight,”_ Bucky said, clearly gritting his teeth.

 _“Download is done,”_ Steve reported. _“Winter, grab Widows stuff. I’ve got the tapes. We’ll review them and send them to the police.”_

Tony checked his screen, cursing. The loading bar was slowing dramatically. “They’ve got countermeasures. Some basic AI called 'ZOLA'. I’m hacking it now.”

 _“The police have been called, sir, by concerned civilians on the street._ ” JARVIS said in his ear. “ _ETA four minutes.”_

“You got that everyone? Pick up the pace and grab your shit,” Tony said as his fingers flew over the keyboard. “We got po-pos coming.”

 _“I feel like this needs a victory dance,”_ Bucky said, sounding dazed.

“I’m at eighty percent,” Tony reported. “Do your dance, find a camera. It’s going to show up on the news anyway. You know how this shit works.”

 _“I’m marking the wall,”_ Steve announced, and the rattle of spray paint came over the comm.

“Aw, you _did_ bring the mini-spray can! I’m pleased as punch!” Tony said, genuinely pleased.

 _“Shaddap,”_ Steve said as the hiss of a spray can filtered over the comm.

“How’s it look?” Tony asked after a second.

 _“Like Christmas, but with more… us,”_ Natasha said.

 _“Or Hanukkah,”_ Bucky put in delicately.

 _“It looks like Christmahanukwanzaakah, but with more… us,”_ she finished.

 _“Aw, man you dance like a white guy,”_ Sam said to Bucky. " _Watch how it's done._ "

“How did you even say that word?” Tony asked Natasha, wondering what the fuck Bucky was doing. “Done!” He grabbed the flash drive and shoved it in his pocket, the gloves forming over his hands again. “Let’s move!”

Tony grabbed Matt and whooshed through the door, Rhodey following him with Clint holding onto the notch in the back. They got up to the next floor and Tony waved them away, looking at the dozen men climbing up over their friends and dangerously close to them. “War Machine and I got this,” he said. “Daredevil, Hawkeye, go! We’ll catch up!”

Clint and Matt bolted and Tony and Rhodey started shooting, keeping them back and slowly flying backwards.

 _“Everybody’s in!”_ Steve snapped over the comm. _“Let’s go!”_

“Start flying. We’re right behind you,” Rhodey said. “Iron Man! Come on!”

He turned and blasted down the hall, Tony hot on his tail, whipping through the halls, through the doorway, and out the broken window, seeing the open trunk of the SUV and Clint and Nat holding their hands outstretched, their other hands grabbing the handles on the ceiling. Rhodey and Tony cut their repulsors and let their momentum and their friends strength pull them inside, the door locking behind them seconds later.

Dead silence rang through the air and then cheers broke out wild and carefree. They hugged, laughed, and whooped and the elation made Tony feel like he was flying again.

 

* * *

 

“Team bath,” Tony said, sitting in the biggest tub he’s even seen, his feet knocking with everybody else's in the giant circle. He's fairly certain Natasha is trying to toe wrestle with him. “I had my doubts, but this is cool.”

Steve tossed a rubber duck at him. “This _is_ great.”

Matt hummed in satisfaction, sinking into the blessedly warm water and pushing a little boat through the bubbles at Clint.

“We’re old enough to drive but I feel like I’m two again and my mom’s washing me and a friend off after we played in the mud,” Rhodey said, grabbing a handful of bubbles and oh so carefully placing it on Sam’s head.

“Gimme a dope ass beard,” Sam said, smearing bubbles over his mouth. Natasha leaned over and scrapes some off to give him a melting goatee.

“Nice,” Bucky said, san’s arm. It was over on the counter with Clint’s aids.

Bruce took Tony’s rubber duck and lined it up with another. After a few seconds the rubber ducks turned with the movement of the water and their beaks touched. “Gay,” Tony whispered, and got Steve’s elbow in his ribs for his troubles.

“Why hasn’t anyone come to find out why electricity is being used here?” Bruce asked, looking at the light above them.

Tony waved a soapy hand. “Everything here is self sustaining and nothing is attached to the main grid, not even plumbing. We aren’t connected to a gas line either. The power is from a giant arc-reactor in the sub-sub-basement.”

 _That light in your chest._ Clint signed. JARVIS, the beauty, has put up a chat for him, audio input writing on the hologram.

“Exactly,” Tony said and signed back. “But bigger.”

“So that’s what that noise is,” Matt said in realization.

“Don’t rub it in my face,” Clint groaned.

 

* * *

 

“JARVIS, put on the news for us.” Tony asked, falling into a fluffy mess of blankets, the rest of his team piling around him.

_“-ust in, HYDRA industries secrets spilled across the internet, and it’s not what you think. Apparently, HYDRA has endless ties to terrorist organizations, organized crime, and systematic murders across the entire world. They’ve dabbled in human experimentation, drug running, sexual slavery, espionage, treason, and assassination._

_“The secrets that we’ve been blind to for so long were poured onto the internet only hours ago and it’s already a horrifying mess of crime. It’s even been found that Alexander Peirce’s foster son, James Barnes, was turned into a living weapon through torture and brainwashing, both of which he would not have remembered following painful memory wipes. This brainwashing was activated by trigger words that made him into a brutal sniper with at least ten confirmed kills and counting. The knowledge of this lead James Barnes’ suicide when he realized what he was being forced to do. The fifteen year old took his own life a only a few months ago. His body still has not been recovered and the case has been reopened._

_“Furthermore, arrest warrants are already being issued for those connected to the crimes. SHIELD, the peacekeeping organization in charge of protecting America and the world, is on the case, reviewing the files and sending their best to apprehend the criminals._

_“Though SHIELD is helping clean up the mess, the aren’t the ones who found out about these heinous crimes. Footage from the raid on HYDRA Industries shows that a group of vigilantes known as the ‘Avengers’ conducted the raid for the sole purpose of informing the people of HYDRA’s hand in criminal activities._

_“This team consists of at least seven men and one woman with aliases of Iron Man, Captain America, the Black Widow, the Winter Soldier, Daredevil, Hawkeye, Falcon, War Machine, and one unnamed get-away driver of undetermined sex.”_

The screen showed the fuzzy footage from HYDRA’s security system, all in their awesome glory. Tony told Matt as such.

_“But the question remains, are these vigilantees here to help, or harm? Now to Bridget with an in detail discussion of the Avengers in the footage we received.”_

_“Thank you Megan. Now, I have to say two things. One, I am very grateful for this leak. Without it, we might have continued to support HYDRA through it’s hidden crimes. Two, the Avengers are incredibly childish about the whole thing. They make jokes with each other when they seem to be finishing up and the Winter Soldier was encouraged to do a victory dance in front of a camera because it would supposedly end up on the news anyway. Looks like Iron Man was right, because we do in fact have that footage. Here is is folks.”_

“She’s showing Bucky’s dance on screen,” Tony said to Matt, then turning to Bucky. “Oh my god, you did the Hotline Bling dance?”

“I did” Bucky confirmed. “And I look fucking awesome.”

“You still dance like a white boy,” Sam said. "I look way better."

_“- SHIELD said that it will be investigating the Avengers and is already looking into locating them. They stress that the Avengers will not be put into custody, but they do need answers and even extend an olive branch by giving the team a job offer-”_

“Tell ‘em to shove it up their ass,” Steve said.

“ _-which is interesting, considering the fact that SHIELD ranks were infested with HYDRA spies as well._ ”

“Damn straight,” Sam said. “Let’s put on a fuckin’ movie and eat popcorn and shit food.”

Tony cheered.


	11. Meanwhile, at SHIELD...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil maybe doesn't get paid enough for this.

Phil Coulson watched the footage again. “Christmahanukwanzaakah?” he asked.

“Yeah, I know.” Fury said. “These… Avengers, are a liability like this. It’s a group of grown men and a woman who think they know what they’re doing when they clearly aren’t taking it seriously. I need you to bring them in. Hell, at least one of them to talk, maybe convince the rest of them to join SHIELD.”

“Even after finding out how many agents of ours were actually HYDRA criminals and spies?” Phil questioned.

“Especially after that. Think about it. With some training, this group could be the best damn SHIELD strike team in history. They’re efficient, they have each others backs, they’re smart. It’s the best option we could ever have.”

Phil nodded slowly. “So what are we going to do?”

“The real question is, what are you going to do? Based on what we see here, they’re not a one hit wonder. They’re going after the corrupt, so I need you to be there when it happens and bring them in.”

Phil thought about it and the business they have on their watch lists. “AIM industrial?”

“There you go,” Fury said.


	12. AIM's to Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash forward and the Avengers are just a bit too predictable for Phil Coulson.

“AIM. We’re going after AIM next,” Tony said.

“Why not Stark Industries?” Bruce asked.

Tony nodded in acknowledgement. “Obadiah Stane is corrupt, but that’s my business, you know? If we fuck it up now, I won’t get it and then we can’t use the profits from being CEO or executive decisions from there to help other people. I think we should take out the shipments of illegal weapon trade instead. Fuck up the illegal activities so he can't cause any more damage. Also, I’m hacking SI daily to find a list of everything he can be tried with, as well as all known associates.”

Steve nodded slightly. “Makes sense. It’s not preferable, but it makes sense.”

Bruce started cleaning his glasses nervously. “So what other reasons are we going after them, other than helping make the Other Guy?”

“Illegal chemical dumps, human experimentation, eco-terrorism, weapons development leading to illegal weapon trade and so on,” Tony listed off. “The human experimentation is leading to death via blowing up and fire currently. Also, AIM has connections to the terrorist organization the Mandarin too.”

“Are we doing a file dump again?” Clint asked.

“Yeah, but we’re also going to destroy the weapon caches and stuff there too. I’ve made charges that need to be set up and checked the security system. This one has to be quiet. Minimal security, covert mission. I’m thinking Matt, Steve, Natasha, Bucky, Sam, Clint and Bruce as a back up. Rhodey and I are, unfortunately, too loud, so we’ll coordinate from home.”

“Cool,” Natasha said, pulling a knife from thin air. “Now pass those nachos over or die.”

“You got it.”


	13. Broken Noses and Bad Intel

Phil was right, once again, and he ended up facing off against Captain America.

Phil was waiting patiently in the office space just before the computer terminal, lazily playing one of those dumb alphabet road trip games with himself, when the Captain ran in, the silvery shield on his arm.

“Wait, there’s a guy here?” the Captain asked, pausing and looking around, his head tilting and hand coming up to his ear.

And that sounded like the perfect opportunity. Phil lifted his gun and shot his own tranq, which ended up hitting the man’s arm and falling off, not piercing the uniform. The man jumped, and brought his shield up, tapping the side of his mask. The goggles went bright green for a second.

“There you are,” he said triumphantly, and lifted the shield, throwing it with all his might straight at Phil.

Phil ducked and rolled, lifting up his gun and letting out the rest of his darts, all which the man dodged, flipping up to catch the shield.

Phil, finding this useless, put a clip of real bullets in his gun, planning on maiming lightly. He pointed the gun and fired, watching as the bullet pinged off the shield like it was nothing.

The next bullet the Captain swatted away, making the bullet graze Phil’s arm. Realizing what that meant, Phil holstered his weapon and put up his hands.

“Shit,” Captain America swore, and dodged a punch. He retaliated with one of his own and they were off.

Phil and the Captain exchanged a few furious jabs and kicks, fighting for domination with Phil clearly winning. The Captain desperately said, “Anytime now, guys.”

With that mini distraction, Phil punched him hard right in the chest, sending the man down to the ground. Phil was momentarily struck with how tiny the man was, just a thin thing, shorter than his sisters too, when the man started wheezing and gasping on the ground, trying to scramble away and palming at his belt.

And that’s when the Black Widow jumped up out of nowhere and wrapped her legs around Phil’s head, using her momentum and weight to slam Phil into the ground, sitting on his chest with her fists raised.

She punched hard three times, bloodying Phil’s nose before drawing back. Phil let his head turn to the side and faked being unconscious, eyes narrowed where the Winter Soldier was helping the Captain use an inhaler.

Huh.

The Black Widow slipped off his chest and rushed over. “Give me the flash drive.”

“I’m-” the Captain took another puff of his inhaler. “Fuckin’ fine. Lemme up.”

“That asshole gave you an asthma attack, sit down,” The Winter Soldier said. “Take a minute and then go. Let Widow do this real quick.”

“...Fine.” He passed over the flash drive.

Phil almost grimaced when he felt blood drip down into his ear, but he didn’t move. This was good information, or at least, all he was going to get.

 

* * *

 

“You got a broken nose and learned that Captain America has asthma.” Fury rubbed his face.

Phil shifted in place. “Ah, yes, sir. The Black Widow came to help Captain America and surprised me.”

“Phil, you are one of our top agents. You don’t _get_ surprised.”

“They knew I was there,” Phil argued. “I couldn't surprise Captain America; the darts wouldn’t work against his armor and bullets ricocheted off the shield. When a bullet almost hit me, I had to go hand to hand. I got a lucky shot to his chest and he went down with an asthma attack. I was reasonably surprised, and then got jumped.”

Fury sighed. “Do better next time,” he said. “And have Hill work with you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Fury looked over at his computer screen. “Why didn’t we know AIM was into human experimentation?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“We suspected the rest of this, but human experimentation is serious shit. The Avengers knew this all before us. Do you know anything else about these guys?”

Phil through back. “Captain America is shorter than me. And the Black Widow and Winter Soldier are just a little taller than him.”

“That’s nice, but not helpful or what I wanted out of that.”


	14. Board Games and Waiting Games

“Alright, AIM is done for, you’re welcome Bruce.” Tony nodded to the other boy.

“Ah, thanks.”

“I thought we should focus on weapons shipments for a while. We pulled off two major infiltrations in six weeks, so it seems appropriate to lay low a bit until we have another big mission,” Tony elaborated.

Clint nodded. “Can I use my blow-up arrows?”

“Absolutely. But we don’t want to kill anyone, so that will have to be after.”

Sam shouted 'Uno' and subsequently won the game, making Tony spill his potato chips over Sam’s mattress when he tackled him shouting that Sam was a dirty cheater. Sam blew a raspberry into his neck and they started wrestling, Steve and Bucky calling out scores and Natasha acting as the ref.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Find out why the Avengers are taking out weapons caches,” Fury demanded. "This is ridiculous! They're evading us like they know where we are!"

“We’re trying our best, but they’re just so fast. These are guerrilla tactics and we don’t know where or why they hit!” Phil said, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been going over the footage for weeks and there's nothing except they’re efficient and fast and utter assholes.” Phil turned over his tablet. “Just look at this.”

_“I’m amazing, I’m incredible-” Iron Man said on screen. “Bow down before the Iron Man!”_

_Three people immediately do so, mockingly. “All hail the Iron Dick,” The Black Widow said._

_“My dick is pure gold, excuse you. All of you would jump at the chance to get some of this,” Iron Man gestures to his crotch with both hands._

“I’ve been reviewing stuff like this for months.” Phil said. “I’m so tired of dick jokes.”

Fury laughed at him.


	15. Kidnapping and Kidnapping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes panicking is the best plan. Kidnapping? Less so, but at least there was a plan.

Phil’s streak of bad luck turned into the oddest mixture of good and bad luck after a raid on a HYDRA weapons cache.

He was running through the halls, trying to locate the Avengers when he personally slammed into the Winter Soldier hard enough to bruise. Pure dumb luck, that one.

Hill, the blessing, was right behind him and shot the experimental energy bindings at the man, the metal wire swinging around him like a lasso.  The man cursed and tripped, squirming and kicking on the ground to get out of it. Failing, thank god. Small mercies.

“Hill, get him to the van. I’m going to check for stragglers,” Coulson commanded, and she nodded, grabbing the man’s arm and hauling him up.

Phil rushed through the halls, peeking into rooms briefly to see if anyone was there. He continued this until he found Iron Man typing at a computer, a glowing red flash drive stuck in the side.

He crept forward slowly, getting the restraints out and just as he was about to toss it, a terrible pain in his head stop him still. He briefly though he’d been shot through the skull, but it receded quickly as he started to drop. Hands on his shoulders and around his neck lowering him to the floor.

He tried to move, but found he couldn’t and felt blood trickle out of his ears.

“Nice job, Hulk.” That was Iron Man, leaning over him and looking down. “Temporary paralytic. Nasty business, but because of you, we’re down a teammate.”

Phil realized that he made a miscalculation. A horrible, horrible miscalculation. He should have stayed in bed that morning.

Daredevil swatted Iron Man. “We can’t just kidnap people!” he snapped.

“He took Winter!” Iron Man protested. “And there’s no going back now. Help me get him in the van.”

Phil was loose and limp in their hands as they threw him into the side, buckling him into the middle seat. Hawkeye slid in on one side and the Black widow on the other. She quickly duct taped his hands together, picked the comm out of his ear, and threw it out the door.

In less than a minute, Phil was staring out the front window as they soared through the sky, his team far behind him and in enemy captivity.

“Strip search him,” Iron Man commanded and instantly Hawkeye was pulling off his guns, patting him down and the Black Widow was scanning him with some device.

“He doesn’t have any trackers,” she said and Phil almost felt relieved and clever, until she scanned his shoe and it beeped.  She wrestled off the shoe and threw it out the window. Phil felt moderatly annoyed. That was his last chance at being rescued by SHIELD.

“His name is Phil, that’s so bland,” Hawkeye said, holding his ID. “Oh my god, he’s wearing polka dot socks,” Hawkeye continued. “I thought he was boring, but look at this!”

He picked up his foot and War Machine looked over. “Hey, I have those too!”

“Can be please blindfold the man we’re kidnapping at least?” Captain America asked desperately.

The Black Widow got out the duct tape and the Hulk softly said, “Please no.”

“Oh, yeah! We can just use his tie,” Falcon said, his hands coming from behind Phil to undo it and tie it around his head. Now he was both blind and paralyzed in the middle of a flying SUV. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he was also surrounded by vigilantees.

“Don’t put on the radio, we are kidnapping a SHIELD agent!” Captain America said, smacking a hand away, by the sound of it.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Hell. This was Hell.

“Thank you for joining Iron Man airlines, we will be landing shortly, please hold onto your pants and do not throw up, Agent Agent.”

And then Iron Man started doing fucking barrel rolls and complicated maneuvers until he jolted to a terrifying halt. Phil sort of toppled over, but the Black Widow caught him and shoved him back upright. War Machine and Daredevil, based on their voices, pulled him out and set him in a swivel chair, then tapping his legs and feet together. They then repeated this with his arms and hands.

“Okay, well, now what,” Falcon said.

“Holy shit, we just kidnapped a _human being_ ,” the Hulk said.

“Let’s not panic,” Iron Man suggested.

“I’m panicking,” Captain America forcefully. “I'm panicking a lot. B- The Winter Soldier is in SHIELD custody, we’ve kidnapped a man-”

“Shh. Let’s just calm down a little bit and make a plan. We have a bargaining chip. Agent Agent here had been following us since day one. Hey, pal. The paralytic worn off yet?”

Phil tried to move, but it was lazy and slow, nothing direct.

“He’s coming out of it,” Iron Man continued. “So we’ll just put him in a room so we can keep an eye on him and make a plan."

There's a silence. “Does this involve him knowing?”

“Okay, we _blackmail_ him then.”

“Blackmail him with what?”

“Uh, permanent residence? I can do that. Like a shock collar.”

“We are not putting a shock collar on a _human being_ , that’s inhumane-!”

“Well what do you want to do, hotshot, they’ve got _Bucky_!” Iron Man shouted, making dead silence ring out through the air. Phil could feel sensation come back to his limbs slowly, like ice melting away and shifted back in the seat to get comfortable.

Someone ripped the tie off his head, startling Phil as bright light assaulted his vision.

“Alright, asshole,” Iron Man said, putting his hand on Phil's shoulder and leaning close. “We’re at an impasse here. You’ve got our Soldier, we’ve got you. In order for this to work out for everybody, we’re putting a little trust in you, okay?”

Phil managed to nod.

“Yeah, sorry, talking doesn’t come back until a bit later. Anyway, because we have to watch you and feed you, it’ll be easier to do with without the tape, right?”

Phil nodded again, because it was true.

“Here's the deal. I’m going to put on a kind of magnetized shock collar on you, complete with handcuffs. You do something our AI finds suspicions, you get a nasty buzz. That way, you’re allowed to wipe your own ass and talk with us. Maybe we can arrange a conversation with your Furious. Depends on good behavior.”

Phil nodded. It was the best idea he could get out of this situation and maybe he could do a little investigating.

“We’re keeping out helmets on, so you don’t know who we are,” Iron Man added. Iron Man grabbed a box from a table and rooted through it, tossing several wide rings to Captain America, who snapped them apart and looked at Phil with a grimace.

“I am so sorry about this,” the Captain said as he clipped the shock collar on. “We’ve got no other choice.” After a pause, he started cutting away the tape to get to Phil’s wrists.

Falcon snapped them on his ankles as well, likely as a precaution. Not having use of his hands is better than not having use of his legs and they knew it.

Most of his feeling was back now, even if talking felt a bit difficult. Phil was confidant that he would be able to walk and stretch comfortably soon. Once he was all set up with his new accessories, and free of tape, the Black Widow led him out of the workshop. Phil had only a few moments to look around without anything blocking his vision, but he could see it was a huge space, with all sort of equipment and tools scattered about.

Phil found himself in a long hall, making him realize he was in an extensive mansion. Possibly underground, considering he still has yet to see a window.

“Trust me when I say that out AI is _more_ than capable of making sure you don't get into trouble,” she said. “He can lead you around, just ask for JARVIS.”

“Okay,” Phil managed.

Daredevil and the others came out of the workshop in only their helmets on, some pulling on socks with silly designs or buttoning their jeans. Some of them were already in T-shirts. They had probably stripped of their suits, dressed, and then put their head-wear back on.

Daredevil was the only one who had his weapon however, which struck Phil as odd. As he walked by, he snapped it into a bo-staff and started tap-tap-tapping it along the floor, vanishing seconds after.

Widow got his attention again. “Go wash up. You’ve got blood in your ears.” And she and the rest of the team vanished from view. He could still hear them yelling to each other and bickering, but he was otherwise alone.

“Um…” Phil started. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Agent Coulson?”

Phil almost flinched. “Where is the nearest bathroom?”

“If you turn right at the next hallway and go into the third door on your right, a stocked bathroom is available for use,” JARVIS responded.

Phil complied and found a five star bathroom with a cupboard full of bath toys, which was odd and confusing, and bubbly soap. The bathtub large enough for ten men. Stripping, he turned on the shower and climbed in, tilting his head this way and that to get water into his ears and wash away the blood.

“Agent Coulson, a robot will collect your suit momentarily and leave something clean for you to wear in it’s place.”

Phil frowned up at the ceiling, but remained quiet. He washed around the cuffs easily and dried off with a fluffy towel, pulling on the boxers, a purple v-neck shirt, and dark grey sweat pants provided. The black socks were a nice touch, but he felt like he was wearing the ace-pride flag. He wasn’t ace, though, Hill was and she would look amazing in this, he just knew it. 

Now that he was clean and dressed, Phil decided to look around. A lot of the rooms were locked, but when he tried the door he recognized went down to the lab, a powerful electric shock shot up from his wrists and ankles and made him drop to one knee, letting go of the knob immediately.

“Restricted access,” JARVIS informed him.

Phil distrustfully looked up at the ceiling, standing up shakily and walking away. He eventually found a living room and turned on the TV, flopping down on the couch and watching the news to distract himself.

_"-and here’s footage of SHIELD agents taking the Avenger known as the Winter Soldier into custody today-”_

Phil watched as the man was thrown kicking and fighting into the back of an armored van, SHIELD agents locking him up after he was tossed in.

_“SHIELD has admitted that the Avengers kidnapped Agent Coulson, a high ranking and respected SHIELD member, in retaliation for their own members capture. Tensions are high between those who demand that the Avenger be released, and those who argue that the real criminals are the Avengers for kidnapping the government agent._

_“The Avengers and SHIELD have not yet opened diplomatic channels, however, so until then all we know is that the Winter Soldier and Agent Coulson are waiting on being rescued by their respective allies. This is Megan H-”_

Phil hit the mute button, sighing.

“Interesting, hmm?”

Phil jumped, whirling around to see Daredevil standing in the doorway, his staff in his hands, his knuckles almost white with his grip. It was strange seeing tension in every inch of Daredevils body but not hearing it in his voice.

The room was quiet except for the Avengers shouting at each other from the depths of the mansion.

“I’ll be the first to warn you that if anything happens to the Winter Soldier, every bruise on his body will match one on your own,” Daredevil continue, still not looking at him. “Think of us as crows. You hurt one of our own, we get revenge and we _remember_.”

Phil was a bit worried now. Daredevil had taken out skilled SHIELD agents before like they were nothing. There were theories going around that he was the actual devil, with the fact that he loved attacking in the dark like he was nothing but a shadow. His fists bruised deep, and agents walked around for weeks with hits and kicks that looked almost black and faded to sickly green and yellow.

“The Avengers are a family of outcasts and misfits, you better believe we will do anything in our power to get him back.”

And with that, Daredevil left.

Phil tried to occupy himself with watching trashy TV, but eventually he got hungry and went searching for the kitchen.

He wound up following his nose, finding himself in a living room where the Avengers were all eating pizza. Iron Man and War Machines helmets snapped closed. They all turned to look at him, the empty seat burning a hole in the room.

Phil, once again, felt like an intruder. Previously, when he was in captivity of terrorist organizations, he just felt like a captive, not like an outsider or drifter.

“Sorry, I just smelled the pizza and-” he shrugged awkwardly.

Captain America sighed. “Grab a few slices,” he offered. “We don’t want to starve you.”

“Thank you.” Phil grabbed a paper plate and sat in the new chair that Falcon pushed his way. Sitting across from the Hulk, Phil started in on his disgustingly greasy pizza.

He recognized the pizza boxes, so they were still in New York and he still could not find a window, so he was fairly certain that he was underground, if anything. That meant it would be hard to find this base again. 

Phil looked up from wiping his face of pizza grease to see Hawkeye signing viciously at the Black Widow, arms practically flying around his head. She was sighing back calmly, easily replying to whatever he was asking or saying. Phil then looked at Falcon, who was grumbling darkly to Iron Man. Daredevil was simply sitting, head titled back in a way that looked like he was sleeping and arms crossed over his chest. War Machine was trying to eat through the bottom of his mask, holding it down so that Phil could only see his mouth.

Based on what he could see, Phil found that six of them were white, and two were black. War Machine and Falcon had darker skin and Captain America was the whitest of them all, which seemed, well, rather American.

It probably wasn’t for any racist reason, but it was an observation. Could be useful to his investigation later.

“So,” Iron Man asked. “How has your exploration been going, Agent Agent?”

Phil startled, not expecting to be addressed. “It’s uh... the house is nice?” he replied. “It big, clearly. And JARVIS is interesting.”

“He is pretty great, isn’t he? I built him,” Iron Man said. “He’s sentient and fully autonomous. Passed the Turing test. I’m very proud.”

Phil felt cold. “Does that mean what I think it means?” Phil asked evenly.

“Oh boy, does it,” Iron Man said, a grin in his voice. “Siri and IBM Watson can eat JARVIS’ dust. So whatever you say, he processes at speeds faster than you can believe, finding any inconsistencies or possible code words. He’s got his several hundred eyes on you.” Iron Man gestured to the corner, a camera with a blinking red light pointed right at him.

“Except in the bathroom,” Iron Man conceded. “But he’s got audio.”

Phil felt his skin crawling.

“I feel like a supervillain, guys, back me up.”

“Bro, you look like a supervillain,” Falcon said. “‘S creepin’ the fuck outta me.”

“Ah, good. That’s the idea,” Iron Man said proudly. “And now, plebeians, I leave you to your meal of shitty pizza. Cap, please do not over strain yourself when you go to the gym.” Iron Man strode out of the room, looking like a proud peacock.

Phil looked at Captain America, who was trashing his plate. “Where’s the gym?” He needed to work off the couple thousand calories he just ate.

“I’ll show you, come on.”

Daredevil trailed after them silently, his stick tap-tap-tapping against the cool wood floor. The shouting started up again, this time Falcon’s doing, apparently.

The gym looked even better than SHIELD’s, to be honest. It had all the equipment anyone could ever need, including a tightrope and a balance beam.

“Use the Hulk’s stuff,” Captain America recommended, heading to the balance beam. “It stretches best.”


	16. Unconventional Ransom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil continues to be treated relatively well.

The intercom buzzed loudly a few hours later. “ _ Alright everyone, bedtime _ ,” Iron Man’s voice said. Phil looked up from his book, having found the quite impressive library. “ _ Everybody to the Pool Room. Except the Agent Agent. There’s a bedroom around here somewhere. JARVIS will show you _ .”

Phil looked at the clock, seeing it was about eleven. He saved his place and took the novel with him. It had been a while since he had the time to read like this and maybe they would let him keep it.

True to Iron Man’s word, JARVIS lead Phil to a bare but comfortable room, a robot skidding by him to ditch a blanket on the floor and run away. Phil stooped and picked it up, throwing it on the bed and stepping into the connected bathroom. 

He brushed his teeth, went to the bathroom, washed his face, and then went to bed. It smelled a bit like dust and laundry detergent, but he'd slept in worse.

He fell asleep easily, wondering what the Avengers were planning to do with him.

 

* * *

 

Phil woke up to a robot with a coffee mug set on top of it. Fumbling, he managed to grab the mug and down most of it, even as hot as it was.

He felt groggy, but the coffee was good and helped him wake up.  Best twelve hours in captivity he’s ever had.

“Ay, yo! I gotcha breakfast!” Falcon knocked loudly.

Phil shambled to the door and yawned widely as he opened it.

“Man, you look like a zombie,” Falcon said. “Here.” He passed over a McDonalds breakfast platter, complete with pancakes, hashbrowns, eggs, and a biscuit. “And here’s your orange juice. When you’re done and whatever, JARVIS will tell you where to go.”

Falcon gave a lame salute and wandered off.

Phil sat at the desk in the room and ate the food absentmindedly, still taking sips of his coffee and the juice when he finished the former. It had been forever since he had eaten McDonalds. He found he enjoyed it, even if the biscuit was dry and the eggs tasted like plastic with the consistency of firm Jell-O.

When he was done, he threw his trash away and quickly washed up, letting JARVIS direct him to a darkened room with what looked to be a large computer and recording devices.

“Oh, hey,” Iron Man said, waving him in. “We’re filming your ransom note, or whatever. You should sit.”

Phil blinked dumbly for all of a second before the Black Widow cracked her knuckles and Phil sat quickly, his cuffs suddenly magnetizing. His hands shot together behind his back and his feet were dragged in closer, making his ankles stick together.

“Do you want tape, or a gag?” The Black Widow asked, showing both duct tape and a strip of cloth.

Phil thought about the ripping of tape and grimaced. “Gag.”

She swiftly tied it around his head, the cloth partially in his mouth. At least it was clean. He would have despised having an oily or bloody rag in his mouth again.

“Alright!” Iron Man clapped. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

In Times Square the Jumbotron suddenly went black, a little Avenger themes loading symbol immediately getting the attention of half the people there.

Iron Man appears on the screen, a ruffled looking man in a purple shirt slightly behind him, a gag in his mouth and his hands locked together.

_“This is a message to SHIELD,”_ he began, Hawkeye signing his words behind him. _“We have a certain Agent of yours- say hi Agent Agent-”_ the man glared. _“And we are willing to propose a deal. I’ve sent a package with a computer in it to SHIELD headquarters. The only thing downloaded on it is Skype and we’re added to the contacts. You set up a video link to provide mutual proof of life, and we trade your guy for ours in Times Square at three o’clock two days from now. Keep in mind, anything that’s happened to our Winter will be matched on your agent. If you don’t agree to these terms, two things will happen. One, we bust into your oh so secret facility like we did to HYDRA, grab our guy, and leave. And two, I declare this my super villain origin and work to make your lives a living hell-”_

_“No, no, we are not going super villain,”_ Captain America said, walking on screen. _“Don’t listen to that.”_

_ “I declare this  my _ _super villain origin-”_ Iron Man proceeds, nonetheless.

“Move,  _ move _ -” Captain America said, pushing Iron Man out of the chair and sitting in his place, turning back to the screen. _“As Iron Man said, you reach out to provide proof of life, and we trade people in Times Square on Thursday. 1500 on the dot. If you don’t agree to these terms, we will come and get our Soldier anyway, with methods you may not like. Captain America, out.”_

He hit a button and the screen went back to normal.

New Yorkers instantly bursting into avid frantic conversation, video files being e-mailed, tweets sent flying and the chaos busting out through social media.


	17. The First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers and SHIELD open diplomatic channels.

Phil was allowed to go back to the library to read and do whatever he wanted until the Avengers got the call from SHIELD.

Amusingly, Daredevil was sitting in the same spot Phil was in yesterday, listening to a cassette recording. Maybe an audiobook. Enough evidence was supporting the fact that Daredevil might be visually impaired, just like how Hawkeye had some sort of hearing impairment, to have this make sense.

“Hello,” he greeted evenly.

Daredevil hummed in acknowledgement a nd even with the worry that Daredevil would beat the shit out of him if the Winter Soldier was hurt, it felt peaceful. Like mutual foes sitting down for a meal together.

Fifty minutes later, almost on the dot, the intercom buzzed again.

_ “Yo, yo, we’ve got a call from SHIELD. Double D, mind bringing out resident Agent Agent down for the meet and greet?” _

“I’m on it,” Daredevil replied, taking out his earbud and walking toward Coulson, who was finishing up and saving his page.

The pair walked down the lovely halls and into the same computer room as last time. Fury and Hill scowled down at the Avengers.

“Ah, well, here’s your boy,” Iron Man said, the other six Avengers around him. “Come on in, Agent Agent. Come say hello.”

“Director,” Phil said relieved. 

“Hey, Cheese. How you doin’?” Fury asked, looking relieved to see him uninjured.

“Fine, sir,” Phil replied. 

“Lovely, Lovely. You have our boy?” Iron Man asked quickly. 

Hill nodded and looked behind her. “Bring him in,” she commanded.

The door swung open and the Winter Soldier walked in. He was dressed in standard SHIELD issue prison clothes, the exception being the mask over his nose and mouth. His metal arm was gone and the cuff he was wearing was attached to a special belt around his hips.

Phil grimaced, seeing the nasty shiner on the other man. The Avengers stiffened, alarmed.

“Remember the part where anything that happens to ours, happens to yours?” The Black Widow said coldly.

“That happened before you sent out your demands,” Fury protested. “We haven’t touched him since.”

Phil felt his cuffs snap together behind his back and he jumped, surprised. The ones at his ankles did the same and he swore as he fell to his knees.

Daredevil stepped forward. “Give him a black eye,” Iron Man requested and Phil had only a moment to process before the fist slammed into his face, knocking him down to the cement, his cheek pressed against cool grey stone.

He heard Hill and Fury shout in protest just as the cufs de-powered. He brought a hand up to his aching eye, vision fuzzy. Daredevil had a hell of a right hook, he’ll give them that.

“Now give Winter the tablet I sent along. We’re going in another room to talk to him, and it better be a private cell on your end too. We’ll leave you to talk to Agent Agent.”

By the time Phil looked up at the screen, his head throbbing slightly, they had all left, even the Soldier on the other end.

“You alright Phil?”

“I’ve had worse, sir,” Phil replied as he stood up and flopped into the seat in front of the screen, still holding his aching eye. “What did you do to the guy anyway?”

Hill cleared her throat. “I tried to knock your location out of him and he said that that ‘my mother was a hamster and my father smelt of elderberries.’ In Russian. I wasn’t impressed.”

Phil let out a slight laugh.

“You’re getting fed, right? How’s the food?” Fury asked.

Thank god for code phrases. This one in particular was meant to find out distance from last location known. There were several ways to answer. He could answer an estimate of time by aircraft, car, or walking.

He opened his mouth to say ‘About the same as the cafeteria’s’ which means approximately fifteen minutes by air, when his words were cut off by a burning jolt of electricity.

“Hzz-zt-!” Phil stuttered out before clenching his teeth and balling his hands into fists. 

It stopped a few seconds after and JARVIS said, “I’m going to have to ask you to refrain from using code phrases, or I will have to use what I find to be efficient countermeasures.”

Phil looked up at the screen to find Fury and Hills faces blank and stony, cold fury in their eyes.

“Sorry, boss,” Phil said, frustrated.

Fury sighed. “We’re getting you back tomorrow, Phil. Just hang in there.”

“Well, it’s not so bad,” Phil said, shrugging. “I’ve got a nice bed, they got me hot meals. Got some reading in. The training room is nice. And really, I should have expected the punch. Daredevil said if the Winter Soldier was hurt he’d do the same to me. The shock collar is mostly just to make sure I don’t go where I’m not supposed to or do something I’m not supposed to do.”

“You get shocked often?” Fury asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just the twice,” Phil said. “JARVIS didn’t want me going into the labs. But other than that I’ve got free reign over the house.”

Fury looked interested. “Anything you can tell us without getting shocked?”

Phil shrugged. “Hard to say. I’m going to play it safe and just say I’m mostly safe and they’re treating me well enough. Hey, this is the best couple of days in captivity I’ve ever had.”


	18. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil comes to realize just how young the Avengers are.

Phil stared at Iron Man. “You can’t eat pizza twice in two days,” he said, bewildered. “Jesus, is this how you’ve all been eating?”

“Uh, yeah?” The smaller man sounded honest to god confused, his helmet had closed the second Phil had come in the room, but the touch screen phone still displayed the number to a pizza place.

“Dad’s turning over in his grave,” Phil griped, shaking his head. “Put the phone down. I’m cooking something. Two meals ordered out is bad enough, three makes me feel like I’m bloated and covered in grease.”

“Uh-”

“Put. The phone. Down,” Phil said, walking into the kitchen. He shucked off his suit jacket, miraculously cleaned and pressed, and draped it over a nearby chair. Rolling up his sleeves, he started rummaging through the cabinets, managing to find the ingredients for homemade mac and cheese with bread sticks and a salad on the side.

He busied himself with that, secretly enjoying the beautifully sharpened knives and other brand new cooking utensils as he worked. Almost all of it was new, he realized, or at least never used, which made everything a whole lot easier. The stove was electric, which was different, but he managed anyway.

After about forty minutes, Phil had a nice homemade meal finished and hot out of the oven.

The Avengers sat at the dining room table, staring at him. Or, he thought they were staring. The masks made it difficult to tell, but they seemed to be more at ease around him. None of them were wearing helmets, he noticed, only their goggles or masks. He could see that Captain America had neat shaves tufts of blonde. The Black Widow had a curly waterfall of red locks. The Hulk has curly brown hair, and Hawkeye had a shaggy head of dirty blonde. Falcon had short cut natural black hair, and the last three, Iron Man, War Machine, and Daredevil had the same coverings as usual, which made it impossible to tell.

“Smells delicious,” Daredevil said, leaning forward.

Phil chuckled and set up, sliding plates to people and putting the steaming glass pan on the table.

Hawkeye signed something and Black Widow put her hands on the table. “You know what? You can  _ fight me _ for the first bite, Hawkeye.”

Hawkeye gasped melodramatically and put his hand to his chest.

“You ain’t gonna win, dude,” Falcon said.

“Aren’t,” Phil corrected absentmindedly as he fetched the bread sticks.

“I fuckin’ know I’m not gonna win,” Hawkeye hissed. “That’s why I’m not  _ doing anything _ .”

“Language,” Phil said next.

And that’s how the Black Widow got the greatest helping of mac and cheese out of the lot. She didn’t even finish it, so the Hulk took her plate and polished it off for her. 

“Waste not, want not,” Captain America said philosophically as he bit into the last bread stick. “You shouldn’t have gotten a helping you couldn’t eat.”

“Easy for you to say,” Iron Man retorted. “You always give what you can’t finish to-”

Silence fell over the table.

“Right,” Falcon muttered, pushing away from the table. “I’m going flying.”

“Can I come too?” War Machine asked, scooting his chair back too.

“Sure man, come on.”

 

* * *

 

Phil would never admit it, but he needed reading glasses. This was one of the reasons he discovered that JARVIS was a blessing.

He squinted at a page of his book, cursing his luck when he finally sighed in defeat. A knee-high robot bumped into his leg and Phil looked down, seeing it hold out a pair of reading glasses to him in it’s claws.

“Oh, thank you,” Phil said gratefully, slipping them on. “Much better.”

“ _ Sir has requested you return to your charging station, DUM-E. Thank you for delivering the glasses to Agent Coulson, _ ” JARVIS added.

Phil enjoyed the library. He always had. He remembers hiding from his mom in the bookshelves and getting bored enough to start flipping through the children's novels. He wanted to be a librarian when he was younger, but outgrew that when he was about ten.

The Avengers, Phil was pretty sure, had gone to bed, wherever that was, but Phil wasn’t quite tired yet. He got comfortable on the couch and settled to read for a bit longer.

Nearly forty minutes later Daredevil appeared.

He wasn’t wearing his mask. Phil couldn’t see well into the darkness, he only had the one lamp on, but he could tell that Daredevil’s eyes were red from tears and not looking right at him, rather through him. Also, Daredevil looked to be a teenager, which made Phil blink in surprise.

“I had a nightmare. Can you… read to me?” Daredevil asked quietly. Now he even sounded like a teenager. They must have given the boy a voice modulator. SHIELD had been using those for some time. “Everybody else is asleep.”

“Sure, bud. What do you want?” Phil asked calmly.

Daredevil held out a book, a worn bible. “It’s my dad’s. I just can’t… read it.”

Phil realized in a split second that Daredevil was visually impaired, maybe even completely blind. “Come sit,” he offered. “I’ll read it to you. Anything in particular?”

“Just… anything,” Daredevil sat next to him, leaning back.

It had been awhile since Phil had read anything from the bible, but he could do it to calm a teenager, even if he had punched Phil in the face hard enough to blacken his eye. 

Phil started reading and when Daredevil fell asleep against his side he didn’t move.


	19. How to Dad Without Knowing It by Phil Coulson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dad Coulson, do I have to say more?

Phil woke up to find Daredevil gone early in the morning. Rather than go to his room again, Phil decided to make breakfast for the lot.

The kitchen was stocked with eggs and bacon and the potatoes were decent. He added hash browns to the menu. 

The Avengers meandered out like zombies, grabbing at the coffee Phil had made, though the Hulk made some tea instead.

Looking at them as he cooked, Phil had the sudden and earth shattering realization that Daredevil wasn’t the only teenager. The height, humor, and size of the Avengers mimicked that of a teen.  The realization was more ‘huh’ than anything else, but part of Phil was frustrated that he didn’t see it sooner. The dick jokes, the junk food, the inability to take anything seriously. They were carbon copies of his nieces and nephews.

The kids- he thought of them that way because they were  _ so young _ \- ate quietly and then ran off to do something else, bickering and swatting at each other as they playfully cursed at each other.

Phil was left at the table alone to eat and think. “They’re good kids, aren’t they?” he asked aloud.

_“I would agree, Agent Coulson. I trust this information will remain a secret? I can arrange for an assassin, if I deem it necessary,”_ JARVIS said.

“I’ll keep them safe,” Phil promises.

War Machine flew past the door frame, Iron Man hot on his heels and shouting loudly about something technical or other and Phil almost choked on his bacon.

The Black Widow ran past a second later, cursing widely in Russian and Phil hears Hawkeye yell, “What’s happening?!”

“Machine blew something up and I’m gonna beat him up!” Iron Man screeched.

“ _QUIET_!” Something that sounded like Hulk roars, making silence echo through the house. 

Phil hears the tap- tap- tap of Daredevil’s cane and him running echos through the house and the boy passes a second later. Falcon ran straight into the door jam. Swearing, he felt along it and then wobbled down the hall. “C’mon man, you proved yourself right already, let me take off the blindfold!”

“Honestly, I think I could just sit here and watch and be entertained for the rest of my life,” Phil said. “The junior agents have nothing on this.”

And then he went to wash the dishes.


	20. Game, Set and Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Protective Dad Coulson is the best Coulson.

Times Square was a mess of SHIELD agents and barriers by the time three o’clock rolled around.

News reporters were swarming the area, photographers being held back by officers. Traffic was being directed away from the masses, and Director Fury was scowling down at his watch. 

With barely a hum, something shimmering swung around the corner guided by two flying figures. The car snapped to viability with a silvery gleam and it swung to hover over the crowd, slowly moving over the clear area and lowering. The tires started twisting out and the car sat down oh so gently. Falcon and War Machine landed on top, crossing their arms.

The car was maybe fifteen feet away, far enough to pull up and vanish if anyone moved.

The window rolled down and Fury had his first face to face look at Iron Man. “Did somebody order an Agent with a side of Agent?” Iron Man asked, putting his elbow outside the window like a trucker.

“Iron Man.”

“Furious," Iron Man greeted. "You have a slightly damaged amputee with you, by any chance?” 

The tension in the air was palpable.

“If you have my agent, I sure do” Fury agreed, waving his hand and letting his men bring the Winter Soldier forward. The man had his hands cuffed behind his back as his metal arm had been returned to him.

“Let him out,” Iron Man called and the side slid open, Falcon hopping down to help Coulson out because his hands were magnetized at the cuffs. Silver duct tape was over tapped over mouth and Falcon peeled it off easily. War Machine jumped down too, standing guard.

Falcon lead Coulson by the shoulder so that he and Fury, as well as Bucky and Phil, met eye to eye. Coulson, being a mature and highly trained agent, nodded slightly, but the Winter Soldier's eyes said it all as he looked around. He was nervous, scared, but relieved at the sight of his friends.

“It’s been real, Coulson.” Iron Man said, pushing a button on his own wrist, the magnets powering down, letting Falcon take them off with ease and leaved Coulson mostly unharmed, except his black eye which matched the Winter Soldier’s own. Fury, taking this as an olive branch, clicked the cuffs off the Winter Soldier and pushed him forward slightly.

Falcon put out his arms and the Winter Soldier did the same, the two coming together in a massive hug, while Fury pulled Phil gently toward their own group, the SHIELD agents welcoming him back with smiled and murmurs. Hands clapped on his shoulder, some saluted him instead.

“Hey, save some hugs for the rest of us and let’s get our boy back to the lair!” Iron Man said to Falcon.

The groups both withdrew for each other, their tentative meeting coming to a close as the Winter Soldier got into the car, into the welcoming arms of Captain America. The door closed behind them and the two fliers climbed into the trunk before it shut with a click.

The SHIELD agent’s absorbed their agent, like a fluid body.

The low thrum of ‘Shoot to Thrill’ started playing from the car and Phil barely managed to stop himself from laughing.

“See ya, wouldn’t want to be ya Fury.” Iron Man waved, revving the car’s engine. The SUV started lifting in the air, shimmering until it was invisible and vanished without a trace.

“Alright people, clean it all up!” Fury called out.

 

* * *

 

Phil sat at his office chair and stared at the wall. He always liked that color grey, but now it just seemed dull and boring. The silence was giving him a headache.

Those kids are probably going to eat more take out. Jesus that was so unhealthy.

Phil sighed and started fiddling with his computer mouse.

A quiet knock came from the door and Phil called out, “Come in, it’s open!”  Fury stepped in and Phil sat up straighter. “Sir,” he said.

“Coulson, at ease.” Phil relaxed, watching as Fury pulled a seat toward himself and sat.

“How’re you doin’ Cheese?” Fury asked.

“Fine, sir,” Phil said agreeably.

“At least the swelling is down on that nasty shiner,” Fury mentioned. “Daredevil hits hard.”

Phil chuckled. “That he does, sir.”

Fury looked through the window behind Phil and said, “We need you to debrief by Sunday, if you could file a report. The Council wants everything it can get it’s grubby hands on.”

“I’ll fill something out,” Phil promised. “But really, I don’t have as much as I would have liked.” Which was a filthy lie, but it was the smartest move to make.

“Just submit something, the Council will act like a kicked dog for all of two seconds and continue trying to find out who the Avengers are.”

“Yeah,” Phil said as he nodded. “You get anything out of the Winter Soldier?”

“Not much.” Fury said. “We couldn’t get the mask off of him without getting hurt, really. All we know is that the guy speaks Russian and his frequent nightmares.”

Phil looked up. “Nightmares?”

Fury waved. “Woke up shouting, wouldn’t let anyone near him afterwards. Nothing useful.”

“Did you at least offer a bottle of water, or something to distract himself with?”

Fury looked at him. “Nah, he seemed to handle them himself just fine. We backed off.”

Phil sighed. The Winter Soldier was probably as young as the rest of them. Phil doubts a sixteen year waking up from a nightmare to a prison cell and a small stiff mattress in the dark dealt with that ‘just fine’.

“I’ll look over the footage to see if I can find anything. I might not have found much, but maybe I can puzzle piece it.”

“That’s my man,” Fury encouraged. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Sure thing, boss.” Phil smiled.

~~~~~~~~~

Phil attempted to take a nap on his couch, failed, and found himself right back in his swivel chair, unable to get any rest.

Instead of leaving, he started looking at the missing persons list on the FBI servers.  He first searched through all the visually impaired missing persons, filtering the results with hair color and age. Three kids matching Daredevils results appeared. 

Benjamin Moray, Jacob Evans, and Matthew Murdock.

“Matthew,” Phil muttered and got out his notebook, the one with the combination lock. He scribbled down the name and went to search again.

Next he looked for hearing impaired kids from fifteen to twenty. Twenty or so people appeared, so he filtered out the people with brown hair and found himself with four results. 

Henry Gregory, Paul Thatcher, Theo Yemil and- “Clint Barton,” he muttered, scribbling the names down. He would recognize that tufted dirty blonde anywhere. The picture displayed looked to be the boy beaming at a pretty redhead. A teen with the same red hair of the Black Widow.

He was on a goddamn roll. 

Over the course of the next hour and a half he found about a total of four of the Avengers, though he had no ideas about Iron Man, War Machine, the Hulk, Falcon or the Winter Soldier.

He felt horrible about punching Captain America, though. The kid, Steve, was asthmatic, had heart palpitations, scoliosis, anemia, high blood pressure, and a whole list of sicknesses he got over that should have killed him. Apparently, he was raised by his grandmother, an  anti-vaxxer  from the world War II era. His mother had died of tuberculosis when he was very little and his grandmother  had passed away from old age about four years ago.

Matt Murdock had been in a Catholic orphanage since his father had been shot after a boxing match but vanished a few months ago. The file said he was kidnapped. Matt, however, seemed happy to be where he was, so maybe that was faked. It was highly possible; there were a lot of kids with the potential means to do so.

Natasha Romanov was a student at the Red Room ballet facility. Very exclusive. She was adopted straight out of Russia and put into the Red Room. Phil pondered that. Black Widow. It was a code name for a line of female assassins and spies going around, but nobody knew where they came from. He’d look into this place.

Clint Barton was taken out of a traveling circus by CPS. He was training to be an archer, no surprise, and he and his brother had run away when their parents died in a car crash. There was no record of the brother being recovered from the circus or anywhere else, and officially he was still a missing person.

Looking at the files, Phil noticed only one consistency: They were all going to the same high school. Doing a bit more research, he found several other missing person files from the same district.

The two black teenagers matched Falcon and War Machine, which made Phil smile with satisfaction. James Rhodes and Sam Wilson, both had excellent student records, and James Rhodes had a military family before his parents died in an attack.

Bruce Banner was probably the Hulk, so Phil wrote down his name with a question mark. His file was questioningly bare too. After a bit of hacking and research, he found out that Bruce was one of the subjects at AIM who ‘failed’ the experiment. He was picked up in India by the terrorist organization. The file said he escaped, but not how. He was later picked up by Indian authorities and returned to America.

Phil took a long while to look over the remaining names, there was one more disappearance than what the Avengers made up. The extra name, Phil was fairly certain, was Breydon Heray because he didn't match any of the Avengers descriptions.

But that still didn’t quite make any sense. James Barnes was dead and his body still hadn’t been found, so there was no way…

“Dammit,” Phil cussed, pulling up the footage of the suicide again as he looked for footage from different angles. They faked a kidnapping, was it possible that the suicide was faked too?

The footage played on TV looked real enough except… Barnes looked less like a limp falling body than a man going for a trust fall. It was nothing definitive, certainly, but Barnes didn’t drop the gun as he tipped back. His knees didn’t give out. Bodies did all sorts of wacky stuff though, Phil would know, and the moderately fuzzy footage didn’t help.

After an hour, Phil found footage from a security camera from the back of a restaurant a bit of a distance from the bridge.

He watched twice, seeing the faintest light from the water. It looked like a signal, maybe from a flashing phone. Based on the time stamp in the corner, in the next few seconds, James Barnes was said to have pulled the trigger. After waiting a few moments, and seeing no splash, Phil laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Those clever kids.”

But that explained why the Winter Soldier was having nightmares and a personal vengeance against that chair at HYDRA Industries. Also, the missing arm.

And last, but not least, Iron Man had to be Tony Stark. Looking at the picture of the young billionaire, Phil could hear him bragging about JARVIS and calling people plebeians jokingly. It also explained the huge mansion and high-tech equipment. Upon doing a bit more research, one of Howard Stark's servants was named Edwin Jarvis, the one who was also involved in the car accident that took the lives of the Starks.

And the ‘underground’ facility had to be Stark Mansion; the big ol’ abandoned building in the middle of the city. It was enormous enough that you could explore for ages, probably never seeing a window.

And Phil wouldn’t say a word. All his findings were written in his notebook and thing he searched wasn’t saved on his computer. He couldn’t imagine reporting this to the Council, having Stark Mansion broken into where all those good kids were living a life they chose for themselves. Playing and teasing each other. 

SHIELD would send in swat teams with gas and guns. Live guns. 

No, this information was safer with Phil, and it would stay with Phil.

Those were good kids making themselves heroes, and he was maybe a little proud of them. The blind boy who could see and fight like the devil, the deaf boy with unimaginable aim, the genius who figured out how to be more than what he was born to, the spy girl and best hand to hand combatant  Phil had ever seen, the unwilling assassin who was making a new name for himself, the bird boy who flew with the grace of his namesake, the boy who honored his father memory as an airman, the asthmatic patriot who wants to make the world a better place, and the boy who went through hell and back at AIM. 

Phil would see what he could do about covering this whole thing up. He always did have a soft spot for kids.

He wrote an empty worded file full of nothing for the Council. It all sounded plausible. It mostly said he wasn’t allowed anywhere, he had on a shock collar, the Avengers mostly avoided him, he got hit a few times.

Satisfied, Phil started packing up, shoving his journal in his briefcase and submitting the falsified  documents on his captivity on the way out.

Game, set, and match.


	21. Re-do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky Coulson.

Phil was back on the Avengers case, but now he was purposefully, subtly, sabotaging the missions. Most of the stake-outs required a small team hiding out at the facility they thought the Avengers would attack, so  Phil always took the upper levels, where he knew the Avengers would come in. 

Sometimes it didn’t pan out.

However when it did…

“Sudoku? You’re missing numbers. It isn’t going to work like that.”

“I know,” Phil sighed. “I’m terrible at it, but I took it out of this desk and figured I might as well. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

A gloved hand pointed. “You need a seven here instead of a five.”

“Thanks,” Phil mumbled, erasing the number and scribbling in a seven. Then he blinked and looked over. “Hulk?”

The boy waved shyly. “Sorry, you just looked lonely. And, uh, I wanted to apologize about paralyzing you.”

Phil stared and then shook his head. “It’s fine, kiddo. You were just doing what you thought was best. Protecting your friends and all that.”

“Kiddo?” Bruce sputtered. “I’m not a-”

Phil gave him a look. “I figured it out, bud. Don’t worry though, your secret is safe with me.” Phil winked. “You should go help your friends do whatever they’re doing. I have to call it in or it’ll look suspicious.”

Bruce paused. “Thank you,” he said, and sped off.

Phil grabbed his walkie-talkie. “I’ve got movement,” he reported. “Harris, come up the second stairway on the left, York, keep an eye in the sky.”

 

* * *

 

When the Winter Soldier skidded into the room two missions later, and Phil asked, “How’s the eye?”

James startled, “What?”

Phil gestures to his own yellowing bruise. “The eye, how is it?”

The metal hand shot to his eye weakly. “Its um. Fine. Why aren’t you... calling anybody or trying to grab me again?” He looked nervous, his body posture conveying uncertainty and hand resting on his gun.

Phil sighed. “I don’t want to hurt any of you, or put you back into custody. In fact, I’m sorry I got you the first time, I didn’t know you were…” Phil gestured vaguely. “You didn’t deserve it,” he said in the end. “And I separated you from your friends.”

Phil sat back. “So I’m just going to relax until you start finishing up and then call it in, barely catching a glimpse of my mortal enemies as they haul ass out of here.”

“That’s…” James paused. “Thank you.” 

And he’s gone.


	22. Teenage Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feed them once...

Phil was kidnapped again, right out of his apartment. All he remembered was coming home to an empty house, as usual, and a rag being shoved over his mouth.  He woke up to Iron Man begging him to make mac and cheese again, metal hands clasped together.

Phil laughed, demanded some water, and then did just that. He kept making parallels to cats, how if you feed them once, they’ll keep coming back.

The kitchen was well stocked this time; he wasn’t just dealing with what he could find on hand, and all nine Avengers were sitting and chatting at the table. They were joking and none of them were in their uniforms.  The Avengers also weren’t wearing their voice modifiers, so the teasing tones of teenagers tittered from the dining room into the kitchen.

“I would make the best pirate!” James Barnes denied. “You’d need two eye patches, Murdock! It’d look dumb as hell.”

Matt gasped melodramatically. “A challenge!” he declared, grabbing his cane and climbing up on the table. “I will not stand for such insolence. A fight for honor, fish man, a duel!” He held his sword like a true fencer.

“Oh, you’re on, blind man!” Barnes looked around and ended up taking a fire poker from the fireplace. “Your do yourself a great dishonor, fighting an amputee,” Barnes declared.

“And yourself, for dueling a blind man. Have at you!” And Matt lunged, the cane and poker coming together with a clang

And the rest of the kids started chanting ‘fight, fight, fight!’

“Alright, alright, that’s enough both of you, off the table!” Phil called out, amused, but purposefully disapproving. “I have to put dinner somewhere and I can’t if you’re going to step in it. You can resume your duel  _ after _ dinner,” he stressed. “Bruce, could you help me set the table?”

“Sure.”

After the meal, however, the kids started telling stories.

“-And so I reacted, I ended up almost choking Clint to death with my thighs and he just gave me a thumbs up and signed sorry.” Natasha shrugged. “And that’s how I met Clint.”

Rhodey and Tony started snickering while Clint sighed, Bruce cleaned his glasses with a smile on his face, and Bucky put his head in his hands. Sam was chuckling, Steve had passed out at some point after the meal, and Matt looked pleased and amused.

“But what happened to the tiger?” Matt asked, with a grin.

“No one knows,” Natasha said cryptically.

“It ate the cotton candy,” Clint said, staring in horror at the memory. “All of it. I think we needed to take him to the vet.”

Matt bust out laughing and the rest of them followed.

Phil got the key to the secret entrance and was instructed to come by often and cook food for the ravenous teenagers. He was threatened by JARVIS twice, both times with murder.


	23. Reverse Adoption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't so much as Coulson adopting the kids as the kids adopting Coulson.

Phil choked on his coffee the first time the kids called him anything other than Coulson or Agent.

“-Thanks pops, I’ll see if I can get Tony to make me a knife like that,” Bucky rushed out, bolting for the door, tiny Steve Rogers on his tail.

“Wait up!” Steve cried, before whirling back to Phil and saying, “See ya later, pa.”

Phil sputtered, spitting backwash into his mug and blinking at the door in surprise. He dumped the coffee in the sink, rinsed the cup, and then drank some water to clear his airway.

He put it off as a fluke and went to change into his gym clothes.

“Oh, hey, _babbo_ ,” Tony said absently in passing, typing at a tablet furiously. Confused, Phil just watched him go and continued to the gym.

 

* * *

 

“Angela? I might have accidentally adopted some kids,” Phil said, curled up on his bed and still dressed in his suit.

 _“How the hell do you adopt kids accidentally?”_ she asked over the phone. “Hold on- _Benjamin James Delahen, you put that down right this minute, young man!_ Okay, so again, how?”

“I don’t know,” he said, honestly unsure. “How did you get kids?”

 _“Well,”_ she said dryly. _“When a Coulson girl loves a Delahen boy very much-”_

“Ugh, stop,” Phil groaned.

She laughed at him and then said. _“Well, how many? You made it sound like more than one, so…”_

“It’s nine. Nine kids. I don’t even…” he made a gesture she couldn't see. “They called me dad, or pops, or pa. A few of them call me Uncle Phil. And two of them don’t speak English as their first language so I’m _papa_ and babboto them. I don’t know what to do.”

 _“Oh, boy, little brother, you’ve got yourself into a classic Midlife Crisis,”_ she said sagely.

“I have?” Phil asked, blinking in surprise. “Ah damn. I have.”

She laughed again. _“You figure out your kids, then bring them to Thanksgiving this year.”_

“I don’t think I can actually adopt them, though, and where would I get a van with ten seats?”

 _“Get a RV,”_ she said. _“And steal the kids.”_

“Jesus Christ, what would I do with an RV? I live in New York!" Phil exclaimed. "And I’m not going to kidnap anybody!”

_“Aw, too soon?”_


	24. Sacrifice Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning for gunshot wounds and angst!

Phil’s attempts at holding off SHIELD don’t last as long as he would have liked. A lot of people were resentful and volunteered for the Avengers stakeouts out of pure spite, putting in live rounds despite Phil’s orders to only bring non-lethal.

He chewed out multiple agents and put a couple on suspension because of it.

He didn’t want to worry the kids, but he did remind them to be safe and keep an eye out for agents with live guns.

Hawkeye taught him how to tightrope walk and called him dad from time to time, especially when laughing after Phil fell off into the net below. Clint also taught Phil sign language, or at least the basics. Phil gradually got better, but he still wasn’t skilled as Natasha or some of the others. He could confidently say he was better than Matt, but gestures weren’t really Matt’s thing.

Rhodey and Sam, to whom he was ‘Uncle Phil’ and ‘dad’ respectively, play a mean game of poker, but Bruce, who hesitantly called him dad, counted the cards like a calculator. Tony, who was apparently an Italian speaker and called him _babbo_ , was banned altogether because he put on a fedora and spoke in a fifties gangster accent for the entire thing while wearing Phil’s jacket, which was way too big.

Steve showed him some of his sketches and attempts at sculpting, which were very good. Bucky and him spend time talking about guns and proper technique at the gun range. He had the workings of an excellent sniper. A good couple of brooklyn boys who still had the accent when they called him pops or pa.

Phil broke out his dancing skills to help Natasha practice her ballet. He was terrible, he knew it, but she helped him out with positions and steps. She called him _papa_.

Matt boxed with him and was really quite good. His technique was perfect and his power exponential. He relied too much on his right side though, so Phil and he worked on that. To Matt, he was Uncle Phil, and he never ceased to feel proud that he earned the title.

Phil spent two weeks tracking down the boxing gloves and robe of Battlin’ Jack Murdock as a present.

Matt felt a fabric and his eyes got wide and wet. “Is this-” he whispered, feeling along the stitching. “Thank you,” he whispered, throwing his arms around Phil. “Thank you so much.”

Phil easily returned the hug, “Not a problem. You’re welcome.”

 

* * *

 

Phil should have seen this coming.

Jameson hadn’t listened to his orders and had brought more live weaponry, despite Phil explicit instructions. Hell, Jameson wasn’t even on the roster for this mission. He was actually suspended for using live rounds on a different mission, but it was too late to send him back by the time Phil realized that Agent Mill wasn't there and another was in her place.

Jameson, as soon as we went back, was going through basic training again and had to submit a self disciplinary file on top of Phil’s junior agent disobedience report. If he was lucky, he would be on desk duty for months, and if he wasn’t, he might be fired or demoted to a janitor.

Phil was fuming mad, if he was honest, that live weaponry was allowed in the same building as his kids.

So, it was fate that one of the kids got hit by a rubber bullet of one agent and Jameson came swooping into the long hall at the exact wrong moment to see Sam down on the ground rubbing the back of his head.

Jameson took aim, his pistol swinging up and aiming right at Sam’s face, or at least, his exposed mouth. With live rounds. Bullets.

Matt, who was about to help Sam up, froze, breath caught in his throat.

Phil didn’t even think about it, he slid right into the line of fire, his hands up- “Hey, _hey_ -!”

BANG! BANG!

Two burning holes appeared on Phil’s chest as the breath was punched out of his lungs and the world tilted dizzyingly. Jamesons’s surprised face followed him as Phil stumbled backwards and sprawled over the ground, hands on his burning chest and head smacking against the tile in the process.

“ _Dad_!” Sam gasped.

“ _Uncle Phil_!” Matt shouted.

Breathing was hard, and his mouth tasted like blood. Phil wheezed against the agonizing pain. He’d been shot before, but never at such close range, and only once in the chest.

“ _Pops_!?”

Phil closed his eyes. Each breath was fire and copper in his lungs.

Something flew overhead and cracked against Jameson, making the man shout out in surprise. “You son of a bitch, you _sonofabitch_ !” Clint swore. “Lemme at ‘im, Cap, _lemme at ‘im_!”

“We have to get him to a hospital,” Rhodey said urgently. When had Rhodey gotten here? “Get the van, _get the van_! Daredevil is he safe for transportation?”

“No broken bones except the ribs, the bullets are in his lungs, we need to be fast, he’s losing blood,” Matt reported. “Iron Man, where is the closest-”

“I’m driving, it’s five blocks. Here’s the emergency stretcher from the van. Get _babbo_ on it and hurry up! Pressure on the wounds! Winter, grab that asshole too!”

Jameson gave a muffled shout and there was a slight struggle as small hands fit over Phil’s chest.

The pain burned and then… he fell into darkness.


	25. Waiting Rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'm not gonna kill anybody, i just like roughing them up a little bit.

The residents of the waiting area for Metro General Hospital in New York city were all staring at the pack of heroes and their tied up hostage. The man was squirming against the duct tape, unable to get free.

A nurse walked over nervously. “S-Sirs? Ma’am? Can you- p-please come to the F-family Waiting Room? You’re disturbing the other visitors-” she asked, stuttering because of her nerves.

“Of course, sorry ma’am,” Captain America said. “Winter, grab _him_ too.”

The group followed the nurse, the Winter Soldier dragging the tied up man by his foot roughly. The man gave a few muffled protests as he slid over the dirty, dusty floor.

The room they were led to was spacious and contained two people, Maria Hill and Nick Fury, who both looked furious.

“What the fuck happened!?” Hill roared, sending the nurse scrambling out and away, the door shutting loudly behind her.

“What the fuck happened?! I’ll tell you what the fuck happened, your own agent shot Phil!” Iron Man pointed. “Twice! In the chest!

“The missions sent to apprehend you are non-lethal only, try again,” Fury growled.

The Soldier threw the agent into the chair and ripped the duct tape off his mouth. “You wanna say something before I punch your teeth out?” he growled.

“It was an accident!’ Jameson blurted fearfully. “He stepped in the way!”

“You brought live rounds?!” Fury asked incredulously. “You know that those missions are non-lethal, everyone knows that the Avenger Stakeouts are supposed to be _non-lethal_!”

“He stepped in the way!” Jameson shouted. “I was aiming for the Falcon! Agent Coulson stepped in the way!”

“It doesn’t matter, you weren’t supposed to bring real bullets!” Fury snapped. “What the hell were you thinking?! You gunned down a _senior agent_ who instructed you _not to bring bullets_!”

Jameson clearly saw no way out of this. “But he was protecting the vigilantees! We’re supposed to capture them, not protect them!”

“With this mess on your record, if you're lucky, you’ll never get another job in your life,” Fury spat.

“If he dies,” Daredevil said lowly. “So do you. An eye for an eye.”

“Now is not the time, Daredevil,” Captain America said stiffly. “Any news?”

Daredevil was quiet. “They’re still working. His heart stopped once.”

Falcon cussed and the Black Widow had to be held back by War Machine because she lunged at Jameson with a knife. The Winter Soldier was flipping his own knife rhythmically and Iron Man was stiffly staring at Jameson, hands clenching and unclenching.

“And why do you fuckers care so much?” Fury growled. “Scram!”

“Over my dead body,” Hawkeye snapped.

“That can be arranged,” Hill said coldly.

“Don’t,” the Hulk said softly. “I’ll get angry, and you won’t like me when I’m angry.”

Everybody shut up, staring and glaring, and the doors opened a second later.

“What the bloody hell is going on Nicholas,” the woman spit out harshly, dressed in a neat suit, her SHIELD badge hanging from her pocket. “I was called down from my office about Coulson getting shot and us having a waiting area full of vigilantees. It’s _three o’clock_!”

“Miss Carter?” Captain America asked, shocked.

The woman, around thirty or forty, by guess, paused, frowning. “Do I know you?”

The Captain pulled a retainer out of his mouth and flipped up his mask. “I haven’t seen you in years!” And hello, that was a teenager talking with a very teenage face attached to it. Hill gasped and Jameson would have flailed if he was able to.

Miss Carters eye boggled. “Steven?! My goodness, I thought you were dead!” She pulled the small boy into a hug.

“Wait, that’s Miss Carter? The lady who taught you how to fight? Your grandmothers kick-ass neighbor?” The Winter Soldier asked, pulling off the mask over his mouth.

“Yeah,” Steve pulled back. “Gosh, I missed you.”

“Is this what you’ve been doing all this time?” Carter asked, cupping his face and checking him for bruises or what not.

“Mosta it,” Steve confirmed.

She swatted him upside the head. “I thought you were dead,” she repeated. “I was worried sick when I heard you had ran away.” She looked up. “And you’ve been hanging out with these... adults?” She gestured at the Avengers

“That’s ageist!” Iron Man declares.

“That’s a millennial speaking. Oh my god, are you all children?!” she asked next.

“I ain’t that young,” the Winter Soldier grumbled, also pulling out his retainer. “‘m older that Steve.” His voice was now softer, but no less petulant.

“Oh, is this just a thing we’re doing? Revealing our secret identities in a crowded hospital room?” Iron Man asked, shutting the blinds. “Idiots. All of you. I should have gone solo.”

“Listen man,” Falcon said, pulling out his retainer. “This was you’re idea. You’re stuck with us.” He pointed with the spit covered retainer then shoved it in his pocket.

“Are _all_ of you troublesome little shits teenagers?” Fury asked incredulous. “My best men and women are being beat up by a bunch of toddlers?”

Daredevil smirked, flipping up his mask and pulling out his retainer. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Guys, maybe this isn’t a good idea,” Hulk said nervously.

“This became a bad idea the minute Uncle Phil got shot,” War Machine said. “So we’re telling the directors and deputy director of SHIELD that we’re sixteen, so what? They can’t touch us with Iron Man’s tech.”

“Aw,” Iron Man said, putting his gauntlets on his mask. “I’m blushing, honey bear.”

“Yeah, but what about him?” Hulk pointed to Jameson.

“Make him sign a Nondisclosure Agreement,” Daredevil said immediately. “Or, if Uncle Phil dies, we kill him and go super villain.” He paused. “Or we can do this-” and he punches Jameson in the face, hard enough to knock him clean out. The man slumps in the chair, blood dripping from his nose.

“ _Thank you_!” Iron Man said, as the rest of the Avengers pulled out their mouthpieces.

“ _Uncle Phil_? When the hell did Coulson become your uncle?!” Fury said, bewildered.

“Well. Clearly none of us can cook for shit, so we kidnapped him to show Winter what he missed when he was kidnapped and then _babbo_ started coming around more often, and here we are.”

Silence fell.

“In retrospect,” Captain America said slowly. “It sounds worse than it is.”

“We only kidnapped him twice!” Iron Man protested.

“Try ‘relocated without request,’ ” The Black Widow suggested.

“We only relocated him without request twice!”

“Shut up, _shut up_ ,” Fury waved his hands in a great X shape. “I don’t care, but are you saying he knew where you were this entire time?!”

“Uh, yeah.” Hulk looked at the rest of them. “He comes to movie nights and everything.  He makes dinner almost every day.”

“I taught him how to walk a tightrope!” Hawkeye announced.

“He helps me practice my ballet on Saturdays,” Widow said. “He’s mediocre at ballet, but he can do a mean tango.”

Fury looked at Hill, putting one hand up from where it was crossed over his chest. “Where the fuck did Coulson learn how to tango?”

“Can’t say, sir.”

“Uncle Phil got me a model airplane for my birthday,” War Machine blurted. “An F-22 raptor. It’s my favorite.”

Fury frowned and starts his next sentence slowly. “Phil’s known who and where you are, but he hasn’t caught a lick of any of you on stakeouts.” Fury blinked and turns to Hill and Carter. “Shit, he was sabotaging the missions right under our noses! If the Council finds out about this, he’ll be tried with treason!”

“Pft.” Iron Man waved his hand. “And then we kidnap him out of a cell and he becomes our stay at home dad. No big deal.”

“If he survives,” Daredevil reminded them, making a hush fall over the group again. Daredevil’s face crumpled and he started wiping his eyes. “Oh, god, his heart stopped again. I can’t-”

“Oh, _d'yavolenok_ , come here,” Black Widow said, hugging the other teen and letting him put his head on her shoulder.

“Let’s just all…. Sit,” Hulk offered. ”And wait this out. Okay? Just… It’s been a long enough day, yeah?”

And that’s how the Avengers and the SHIELD agents sat on different sides of the room. All nine Avengers were piled a the couch make for three in positions that should be impossible and the four SHIELD agents took up half of the folding chairs.

 

* * *

 

“You know, usually it’s the black kids getting shot, not the white men,” Falcon said nonsensically an hour later.

“Falcon-” Steve said.

“I just- the gun was pointing right at me. I thought that was it. I was gonna kick it cuz I got shot by a white police officer, or, you know, a form of police enforcement at least. Fate, or some shit. But dad looked at me with this- this fear in his eyes and then jumped right in the way, his hands up to try to get him to stop.

“Then just… Bang, bang. No hesitancy. The guy was going to kill me. No second thoughts. I dunno if it’s cuz I’m black or he just hates vigilantes, but I don’t-” Falcon was clearly shaking and the Avengers shifted as one, hands coming to hold and calm.

Falcon breathed deeply and closed his eyes, tilting his head back and relaxing into the arms of his friends.

“Daredevil, how’s pops doing?” The Winter Soldier asked.

“Still in surgery,” he responded. “But his heart is steady.”

Iron Man pulled himself out of the mob. “I’m going to get us some clean clothes,” Iron Man said. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes tops. With snacks. And, um, other stuff.”

And with that, he pushed open the window and flew out.


	26. Waiting for News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is their universe's version of Coulson Lives.

Iron Man returned the same way with two duffel bags of stuff. Dumping them on the floor, the kids started up on them, stripping off parts of their armor and pulling on soft sweatshirts and hoodies.

And once they were down to converse and jackets, they decide unanimously to snuggle, Iron Man passing out snacks from his spot in the center and giving people things to do. Tablets and books, a sketch-pad, a thick textbook, in what seems to be braille, was handed to Daredevil.

Fury blinked and shot a look to Hill. “The blind kid beat up our top agents,” he whispered urgently.

“You need better top agents,” Carter whispered back.

“I can’t see worth shit, but my hearing is spectacular,” Daredevil commented. “And you’re right. They telegraph their movements too much.”

“Ooohhh-” Hill and Carter echoed at the same time. “Burn!” “Snap!”

Fury stared at the floor like he was dying.

 

* * *

 

Daredevil straightened suddenly. “He’s out of surgery.”

“What-? Is he okay?” Sam asked, sounding worried.

“His heart is beating. The nurses sound calm,” he reported. “There’s a doctor on her way.”

War Machine leaned off the couch and the Hulk immediately grabbed his belt, letting the other boy snag the bag of their stuff without face planting, passing the masks back to their owners.

The Black Widow swept up her red hair and put her helmet on, mask fitting on next.

It looked comical, all the Avengers in their masks and clothes that were too big squished onto the couch like sardines.

Jameson made a pained whine and blinked at his surroundings.

“You’re fired,” Fury said.

Jameson blinked, not understanding, and then whined again, tilting his head back and passing out.

The doctor stepped in not a minute later, eyeing the entire room first.

“How is he?” Fury asked.

“He’ll be fine,” the doctor assured. “If he had come in any later, he wouldn’t have been, but thanks to the Avengers,” she gestured at the couch. “We were able to stabilize him and patch him up.” She looked through her folder. “We had some trouble, the close range bullets had gone straight through Agent Coulson’s bullet proof vest and into his lungs, which, as you can guess, had a lot of shrapnel from the impact, and they weren’t clean through, but we managed.

“His heart stopped twice, but thanks to quick action, we started it up again, and we even expect a relatively quick recovery, based on Agent Coulson’s medical records.” she concluded. “I would say he could take a few visitors, meaning two or three, but that clearly isn’t happening, so just don’t crowd him and everybody needs to sanitize before they even think about entering the room,” she stressed.

She paused. “And no more than four people sitting by his bed. Or else,” she said cryptically.

“I like her,” Widow said. “She’s my favorite now.”

The Soldier gasped melodramatically, and put a hand on his chest. “But I thought we had something special-!”

“You can be my favorite,” Captain America offered, grabbing the Winter Soldier's hand and lacing their fingers together.

“Gay,” Iron Man mumbled.

“I mean,” the Hulk said, “No offence, but you’re a little gay too.”

“I mean,” Iron Man made a gesture to War Machine. “A little. Can you blame me? I’m surrounded by men. Who work out. A lot. Widow tends to remind me that I’m not 100% gay.”

“Well,” the doctor said, in the following silence. “I’ll show you all to Agent Coulson’s room then.”


	27. Hospital Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's fine, see?

Hill and Fury took one side of the hospital bed while Falcon and Steve took the other, the rest of the Avengers once again squished on a couch.

Hours went by slowly, and people just as slowly passed out, usually one by one, though Widow and Hawkeye sort of dropped off at the same time.

Even Hill fell asleep, her knees tucked against her chest and arm in an awkward position to act as a pillow.

Phil looked small tucked in the bed, pale in the white light. He had the nasal cannula and monitors attached to him nearly everywhere. He also looked fucking exhausted, even in sleep. That was probably from the blood loss, though, and not from an actual lack of sleep.

And just as Fury started slowly nodding off, Phil’s heart monitor sped up a bit.

Fury shook himself out of that hazy state and sat up, immediately, but gently, taking Phil’s hand.

Phil’s blue eyes opened slowly, barely blinking. “S-” Phil mumbled, voice rough. “‘-mmm.”

“Coulson,” Fury said, relieved. Phil turned his head slightly and blinked slowly, then he frowned.

“Nn.” Phil managed, turning his head away. Put out by that dismissal, Fury blinked in surprise.

“Smm?” Phil groaned, looking around urgently.

Falcon jerked suddenly and scooted over, grabbing Phil’s other hand. “Dad,” Falcon said, sounding choked up.

Fury watched as all the tension drained out of Phil like he was a wrung out sponge.

“Sm,” he slurred again, this time so relieved it cleared any doubts Fury had about how close the Avengers and Phil were.

“I’m okay,” Sam said. “You saved me, dad.”

Phil sighed and closed his eyes. “Sm.”

“You should sleep, dad. You got hurt pretty bad.”

Phil let out something like a chuckle. “Hpns,” he slurred and then sighed again, passing out.


	28. Where SHIELD Rumors Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury moderately accepts that Phil is dad to the Avengers, but that doesn't mean he's happy about it. Except for the fact that it's amusing.

Clearly, with the press as ravenous as it was, and as willing as it was to make a mess of everything to get it’s hands on a good story, the Avengers didn’t stay long.

It was already in the news papers, pictures of the Avengers bringing in Phil, putting pressure on the wounds, and even Hawkeye arguing with a tall doctor while balanced on two legs of a chair. In the morning, Fury was forced to give a statement and it went something like this:

“ _No, the Avengers did not harm Agent Coulson, a dumb-ass junior agent though it would be a good idea to bring live weaponry on the Avengers stakeout we were performing in an undisclosed area. This agent, who went to fire at the Avenger known as the Falcon, discharged his weapon twice. Unfortunately, Agent Coulson stepped in the way to protect the Avenger and took the bullets instead. The junior agent in question is being fired for disobeying his superiors orders and gunning down a high ranking SHIELD agent._

_ “Luckily, the Avengers jumped into action, bringing Agent Coulson to the hospital and thus saving Agent Coulson’s life. He is expected to make a full recovery.” _

 

* * *

 

Phil and Fury didn’t talk about it afterward. Not even a peep passed between them, but Fury watched Phil carefully and listened when Phil said he was stopping somewhere to get something for ‘his kids’. H ill called him 'Dad Coulson,' which was both amusing and frightened the junior agents. Then Phil made it worse by bringing the Black Widow and Hawkeye to ‘bring your kid to work day.’

“What the fuck are you doing?” Fury hissed, grabbing Phil’s arm in passing.

“The junior agents are getting cocky,” Phil replied evenly. “I’m getting that out of them before they go on a mission and get shot because of it.”

“By putting them up against the  _ Black Widow _ ?”

Phil smiled. “No, by pitting them against my daughter.” Phil winked. “And then, I’m going to review shooting skills.”

“Ah, Jesus, Phil,” Fury sighed. “Fine. Fine. If we get better agents out of this, I don’t see why not. But I want to watch.”

Phil tilted his head toward the door. “Let's go then.”

Fury leaned against the door and the trainee’s snapped to attention, saluting. Phil walked in next, flipping through his files, Hawkeye and the Black Widow behind him. 

Hawkeye was wearing a dirty purple shirt with a bulls eye on it and the Black Widow was in a pair of yoga pants, and a neat clean exercise shirt.

“At ease,” Phil said and the gathered men and women relaxed. “Today we’re reviewing efficiency in hand-to-hand combat and accuracy in shooting. In lieu of it being ‘take you kid to work’ day, you will be going against my daughter. I’m giving everyone ten minutes to stretch and please try not to embarrass yourself. The Director is right there, after all.”

The adults all scoffed, looking at the petite redhead who was tying her hair up in a bun. However, they did spread out and do a few light stretches, some of the women joining in groups to help each other.

Phil sat at the small table at the edge of the wrestling mat and watched as both his agents and kids got ready. Fury joined him, and asked. “You think she’s going to beat ‘em all up?”

“Oh, yeah, without a doubt,” Phil said, flipping through his reports again. “She’ll clean the floor with them.” He checked his watch. “Five minutes!” he called out.

“What’chu working on anyway,” Fury asked.

“I’m editing the junior agents reports from the Slokovia mission.”

Fury grimaced.

“They’re a mess,” Phil agreed. “I feel like I’m grading homework and everyone is failing. I’ll do some reviews with them tomorrow.”

Fury shook his head. “Man, desk duty must suck. Shame you got shot, you could have gone on the Slokovia mission instead.”

Phil shrugged. “Couldn’t get a babysitter anyway,” he joked.

“You’re awful, Coulson. Awful.”

Phil chuckled and checked his watch again. “Alright, everybody, to the mat.”

The agents had lined up and Natasha was on the other side, arms crossed and looking at the group, unimpressed.

“Alright. I want a fair fight, no face shots, Natasha, please don’t aim for any genitals, and no biting. Both fighters need to use MMA gloves. This assessment is pass or fail. Now, who wants to go first?”

“Give ‘em hell, Nat!” Clint cheered, suddenly up in the rafters. The junior agents blinked in surprise.

A group of men argue for a minute and then Trainee Agent Booth stepped forward.

Natasha cracked her knuckles before slipping the gloves on. Booth scoffed and pulled his on as well, getting into position.

Phil looked at the watch. “And… Go.”

Natasha moved in a blur, so fast that Booth startled. In seconds she’s swept Booth’s feet out from under him, pinned his chest under her knee, and had a hand raised to punch him in the face.

“Fail. Booth, you underestimated your opponent. In real combat, you would be dead. Next!”

“Boom!” Clint cheered. 

Natasha systematically downed every single agent, surprising every single one of them despite everyone seeing exactly how she slamed each man and woman to the floor.

“Alright, now that everyone has been beat up by my sixteen year old daughter, and subsequently failed the assessment, we’ll go down to the gun range and test accuracy. Everybody take a shower, it smells like sweat and disappointment in here. Also, Mckinley, please go get a brace for your sprained ankle. Katchadourian, help her please, and get something for your back, then both of you report to the range.”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled.

Phil packed up his files and passed the glaring and humiliated agents. “Everybody meet at the range, twenty minutes.”

“Congratulations, you all got your asses kicked by a teenager,” Fury said, leaning back in his chair. “It was hilarious. Let’s hope you can salvage this situation with accuracy in the shooting assessment.”

“She could have done it in heels, too,” Clint said, still up in the rafters. “Like, four in heels. Maybe five. With her hands tied behind her back. Look at her, she hasn’t even broken a sweat.”

And she hadn’t not really. Other than the slight sheen on her brow, she was basically flawless. “Clint, take a selfie with me, I want my defeated foes in the background for my background, the training dummy with a smiley face is getting old.”

“Yo,” Clint agreed, swinging down. Landing with a soft thump, he half hugged Natasha, making a peace sign and sticking out his tongue as she smirked at the camera.

“Nice,” Clint said. “Hey, wanna go through the vents?”

“Walking through halls is for nerds,” she said. “Race you.”

 

* * *

 

When the freshly showered trainee agents wandered into the firing range, Phil had already set up a nice array of guns and protective equipment.

“I’ve set up six paper shooting dummies. The idea of this assessment is to hit the center of the bulls eyes as quickly as possible with your chosen weapon and only six bullets. Two of the dummies are moving and are the farthest away out of all of them. This is not pass or fail, but if you miss too wildly, points will be counted off.”

Phil gestured to the safety equipment. “Put on your earmuffs and glasses. Zales, you go first.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, pulling on the muffs and pushing the glasses up her nose. She picked one of the long range guns and set up. She was a talented sharpshooter, to be sure, but she didn’t quite hit the last two dummies dead center. Her time was decent though.

After switching the dummies out, the next person went. Most of them missed the last two after that, though some of them clipped the moving dummies.

So most of them got the equivalent of a D.

“Clint?”

“You got it, dad,” Clint grinned, flicking on his own purple protective glasses and loading his gun. He pulled out his hearing aids instead of putting on the ear muffs and perched instead of getting into a normal shooting position. He flicked off the safety a nd less than two seconds after he got into position Phil clicked off the stopwatch and brought the dummies forward.

Perfect, every one of them. The agents were fuming.

“And once again, you’ve all been beaten by a sixteen year old,” Phil said. “Hows that as a blow to the ego?”

Phil heard something crunch and looked at Natasha, who was reaching into a lunch bag. “Natasha, whose is that? I said we could get pizza on the way home.”

She paused. “It’s McDivot's.” The man in question gave a cry of alarm. “I got it from the break-room.”

“Why?”

“He called me a bitch when I pinned him.” She shrugged. 

Phil pondered that. “Fair enough. Also, McDivot, that is very unprofessional.”


	29. Red Skull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and this is how steve gets the serum in this universe

“Classic chuck-and-duck mission,” Tony said with ease. “Infiltration, set the charges, and blow it sky high. We also want to get some data, but I think this will go well if we send in Natasha to do that. Cap and Bucky will set the charges. After that’s done, we, well, run and duck.”

Phil looked up from the sports section. “That few?”

“Well, the base is mostly abandoned, based on my information. And of course, Bruce and Clint will act as back-up,” Tony added.

“Alright,” Phil said, finally. “But you all be careful,” he said, pointing threateningly. “And be home by midnight.”

“Cake slices,” Tony announced. “And I’ll even direct the mission from here.”

 

* * *

 

“B _ abbo, babbo _ !” Tony shouted, running in frantic as he hastened to pull on his armor. Phil jerked awake, wincing at the crick in his neck from passing out in the swivel chair. “It was an ambush! They've got Bucky and Steve!”

Phil shot to his feet. “What?!”

Tony tugged on a boot and fell over. “This psychopath, Red Skeleton, or whatever, he ambushed them! Nat called it in and Bruce and Clint don’t know what to do!”

Phil went through a few thoughts in an instant.

One, it was Red Skull, not Red Skeleton, but that was denial talking.

Two, that psychopath had Bucky and Steve captive and was well known for torture and human experimentation.

Three, Phil needed guns.

“I’m getting a grenade launcher,” Phil said instead, because it was more destructive. “You get everybody else ready and meet me on top of SHIELD headquarters. Got it?”

And with that he rushed to the garage, speeding his car out of the garage so fast he didn’t even realize he got in. He broke so many traffic laws it wasn’t even funny. He nearly hit seven cars on his way, and then he skidded to a stop in the parking garage, leaving the car and everything there, not even parked and with the door wide open.

It was SHIELD issue anyway, he didn’t keep anything in it because he assumed it would get blown up in duty at some point.

He ran through the halls to the main armory, loading up with guns and, true to his word, a grenade launcher.  Storming up to the rooftop, agents jumped out of his way, startled and wide eyed.

Fury grabbed his arm on the way. “Woah! Hold up there cowboy, where do you think you’re going with all that.”

Phil blinked at his clearly concerned friend. “Red Skull. He’s got Steve and Bucky. I gotta-” He yanked his arm away. “I’ll check in later.”

And he ran the rest of the way, climbing out of the stairwell just as the flying SUV started lowering. Hawkeye swung the door open and gestured for Phil to jump in.

 

* * *

 

Phil lined his shot up through the open car window. “I’m blasting a hole in the front of that building. I want War Machine and Iron Man to go in as scouts first and everybody else to follow. I’ll be right behind you all,” he promised, and fired.

The front of the building went up in a ball of flame and destruction. Bruce opened the trunk of the car and Tony and Rhodey zoomed out and through the smoldering destruction.  Bruce jerked on the wheel and landed a second later, allowing everybody to rush out and into the building. The alarm blared loudly over the intercoms and Phil could already hear HYDRA personnel shouting and rushing about.

“Let’s move! Hawkeye, find Widow,” Phil ordered, strapping the grenade launcher to his back and pulling out his guns. “Daredevil, help me find Captain America and the Winter Soldier.”

Matt nodded and clicked toward the entrance, pausing for three seconds before rushing forward, Phil hot on his heels as they weaved and dodged through the halls, men and women dropping with bullets in their guts or being knocked out by Matt’s billy clubs.

In minutes Matt stopped at a sealed metal door. “They’re in there, something’s wrong.” Matt tugged on the handle. “It’s locked,” he said, frustrated.

Phil looked around and spotted a flash of red. The Red Skull froze at the end of the hall, then started grinned at them as he straightened.  “Oh, I see you located my test subjects,” he said with an evil smirk. “Such luck that you sent them my way, I needed to try out my newest chemical injection.”

“You son of a bitch!” Phil hissed, and brought up his gun. Unfortunately, the Red Skull jerked away and ran down the hall to his left, out of sight.

Phil pushed Matt to the side a bit and shot the lock until he was out of bullets, he reloaded and emptied his clip a second time. This time, he was able to force it open.

Phil sucked in a breath. Steve and Bucky were strapped to tables and each boy had a drip in his arm, the remaining liquid inside was blue for Steve and watery red for Bucky. They had both passed out and looked pale and feverish.

“Daredevil, get Winter,” Phil ordered, rushing over to Steve to tear off the straps keeping the boy down. He pulled the needle out of Steve’s arm and picked him up easily. “Hey, buddy. I’ve got you,” he said softly.

Matt had Bucky on his own shoulders and nodded to Phil. “Let’s go,” he said. 

Phil grabbed the abandoned shield on the way out. “Hawkeye, do you have Widow?”

“Yep! We’re on our way back to the car, though, she’s hurt.”

“It’s just a scratch,” she added breathlessly. 

“She needs stitches,” Hawkeye said.

Phil shifted Steve in his arms. “Captain America and the Soldier are down, they were injected with something. We’re on our way to the van. Are the charges set?”

“Yeah, just about!” Iron Man announced. “Let’s get everybody out of here. Nat, did you get the files?”

“Yeah,” she puffed out. “A flash drive full.”

“It might be a good idea to evacuate, then,” Tony said.

Phil picked up the pace and went over the smoldering remains of the entrance, booking it to the car, where Bruce was seated nervously. Upon seeing them, Bruce climbed into the back and began collapsing the seats into the floor, opening the trunk and setting out the stretchers they carried. Matt and he laid the pair down and climbed in.

“Their heart rate is faster than normal, and their body temperatures are higher,” Matt reported. “It’s like they’re sick. But they aren’t dying, I know what dying sounds like. This sounds like the flu, or something.”

Phil put his hand on Steve’s sweaty forehead. “He’s burning up.” Phil’s mind was racing. “We can’t take them to the hospital and I don’t think we should bring them to SHIELD. We’re going to have to wait it out at home.”

The rest of the Avengers thundered out, the fliers taking one look into the van and launching into the air.

They had a point, there might not be enough room like this. “Charges are going to blow in less than a minute. We should leave,” Tony said.

Phil closed the trunk just as the last of the kids climbed in. As they took off, the base blew up just after them, sending fiery spews into the air along with tons of rubble. Luckily most, or at least some, of the HYDRA agents had scattered in the attack and were cowering in the tree line and avoiding the fiery rumbling explosion.


	30. Sick Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The effects of Red Skulls shitty serum are reveled!

Phil set up a medical room for the Steve and Bucky to the best of his ability. With JARVIS watching and monitoring vitals, along with Phil's constant worry, the two were never alone and had plenty of water, even in their unconscious state.

Phil started biting his nails again, a nervous habit that flared up when he was worried. 

The only thing that relieved that stress were the rumors that went around SHIELD. Most were about Phil, after all, and now that people knew he was a dad, some of them involved Clint and Natasha. Mostly about them being insanely talented, or ninjas. Both, generally.  They were amusing, and helped him relax a bit.

Fury came in at lunch. “Thanks for returning the weapons,” he started with, sitting. “How are the kids?”

“Sick,” Phil replied, tapping his fingers nervously. “But Daredevil seems optimistic, and JARVIS is monitoring vitals, so…” Phil shrugged. “I’m just sitting here, not getting much done, actually.”

“You get Skull at least?”

“No, I had bigger fish to fry. But he’ll be back, and the kids are pissed, so I bet next time you’ll find the psychopathic neo-nazi wrapped up in duct tape and stuck to the front door.”

Fury chuckled. “Looks like you had fun anyway,” Fury said, showing his tablet and an aerial view of the destruction. There was rubble everywhere, spread in a starburst pattern.

Phil shrugged. “Blowing up the base was planned anyway.” Phil considered the picture. “Can you print that out so I can tape it on my wall? I’m thinking of starting a photo album, or something.”

“What, ‘ _ baby’s first exploded HYDRA base? _ ’ ”

Phil shrugged. “Why not? The trainees would go insane and I bet the Junior Agents would snap like twigs.”

“That would be fun,” Fury agreed.

 

* * *

 

Matt frowned at his plate suddenly. “Steve’s awake,” he said. “Something’s off.”

“I’ll check on them,” Phil assured. “You keep eating, I’ll be back.”

Phil wiped his lips with a napkin and stood up, walking down the halls just in time to hear a loud crack and a confused noise. Phil picked up the pace a bit and turned the corner to see…

Steve, standing uncertainly in the middle of the hall holding the door in front of him, it having split off near the hinges. That kind of break would require a freak amount of strength. In fact, holding the door up like he was would require a lot of strength, though Steve didn’t look any different. 

“Um,” Steve said, looking confused. Phil made a noise and Steve looked over. “Pa? What’s happening?”

“Why don’t you put down the door, and we can find out,” Phil offered, carefully showing his hands, just in case.

“Yeah,” Steve placed the door on the ground and leaned it against the wall. “Everything looks different,” Steve said, looking around. He looked at his shirt. “What  _ is _ this color?”

“That’s red,” Phil said lightly. “Let’s get you something to drink and maybe some broth or toast, you were sick for a few days.”

“But I can’t see red,” Steve said meaningfully. “I’m not colorblind anymore?”

“I guess not,” Phil said gently. “Come on, to the kitchen.”

“It’s so easy to breath,” Steve said in wonder. “My chest doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts. Pa, what happened?”

“First food and water,” Phil said firmly. “Then we can talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve nodded, staring off into the distance in shock. “I can hear out of my left ear. I feel better than I ever have. I don’t think I have heart arrhythmia anymore.”

“That’s good,” Phil patted Steve on the back gently. “I’ll make some tomato soup and toast.”

“Okay,” Steve said absently. “I’m starving.”

They made it to the kitchen and Steve broke the edge of a chair off with his bare hands. “Um.”

“You might have enhanced strength,” Phil said soothingly. “Just pretend everything is an egg and we can figure it out later.”

“Okay.”

And with the egg metaphor in place, Steve managed to eat all of the soup and two slices of toast with only a bent spoon to show for it. 

Bucky woke up ten minutes after Steve with some fuzzy memories and twice as woozy. The blessings must have been sent Phil’s way because Bucky didn’t seem to have the same strength as Steve did and didn’t bend the spoon. He does, however, break a cup.

 

* * *

 

“Okay,” Tony said. “So, after Bruce, Rhodey and I did some tests, which was a ton of fun lemme tell you, we can finally tell you just about all the side effects of whatever that weird ass goop was.”

Phil looked at the genius in bemusement. He was wearing a lab coat stained with oil and protective goggles. In his hands was a clipboard and Phil was pretty sure that the end was smoldering, or at least, was lit on fire at some point.

“So, Steve. You’re cured.”

“Cured of what?” Steve asked, after a pause.

“Everything,” Tony said. “No color blindness, no heart arrhythmia, no asthmatic, no heart palpitations, no scoliosis, no anemia, and your blood pressure is perfect. Your resting heart rate is amazingly slow and steady. Your metabolism is up like five times, and to be frank, your sight and hearing is better than the average humans. Less ears than Matt, and less eyes than Clint, but y’know. Around there. Also, your reflexes are insane.”

Tony flipped through a few pages. “Okay, you know the weight tests we did, but didn’t tell you how much you were benching?”

“Yeah,” Steve said slowly. 

“Well, apparently, you can bench one thousand two hundred pounds.”

“...What?”

“Yep! In a controlled environment, we set up a weight test. And eventually we hit the thousand mark on a hydraulic press. Buddy, you can lift a little over half a ton. And, hey, on an adrenalin rush, you might be actually able to lift a ton, too!”

Steve looked faint.

“When Bruce and I looked at the serum, we could tell than Red Skull was trying to make you bigger too, but he shitted out on that because he’s a shitty human being, so you’ll probably stay about your size and shape, except your spine is straighter, so you gained an inch or two.”

“Huh,” Steve managed.

“Oh, and you’re super resistant to just about everything and have super healing,” Tony rushed out. “Your cells regenerate freakishly fast, and that would mean you could live forever, but again, Red Skull, so you might live fifty percent longer realistically.”

“Huh.”

“Now, Bucky! You’re version wasn’t near as advanced as Steve's, it was like they gave you the prototype of the prototype, but you have been enhanced. You can bench about eight hundred and everything wrong with you has been dealt with, though nothing was really up in the first place. Better sight, better reflexes. Also, cell regeneration, same longevity, surprisingly. Metabolism is three times what it was, and to be honest, you’re immune to basically all poisons. Healing factor, yadda, yadda yadda.

“So both of you have insane agility, stamina, and speed. Steve can run thirteen miles in thirty minutes. Bucky can run thirteen in fourty. And that was the durability tests. Top speed for you two is somewhere around sixty to seventy miles an hour, but in short bursts.”

Tony made a gesture. “Basically, you’re superhumans. And we may find out more in the future, but you’re going to have to be benched while you figure out how to deal with your strength. Also, I can build things if it come to it too. Like titanium spoons and forks and stuff, or whatever.”

He looked at the group.

“And you’ll need to edit your armor to take that new strain. I’ll send over some specs. Hey, fun fact, you two are denser now, so swimming might be tricky. Please learn how to compensate. I’ll add that to the suits too. Oh, and train a lot with the shield, please, with your strength, you could decapitate someone relatively easily.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Steve said dazed.

Tony gave a double thumbs up, despite his clipboard. “Cool beans.”


	31. Home for the Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> phil plans to bring his kids to his childhood home for thanksgiving; a coulson family tradition.

For the rest of the weekend, Steve and Bucky acted like clumsy, strong, elderly gentlemen, scaring the living shit out of everybody when skinny Steve slams the punching bag off the chain, spilling sand everywhere.

Bucky snapped the backs off two chairs and a shattered a few game controllers. Tony redesigned a prosthetic that could match his new strength and starts fabrication.

 

* * *

 

Phil whistled a tune as he grabbed himself a morning cup of coffee at the office and the junior agent next to him flinched as Phil was a live explosive.

“What the fuck…” the young man said lowly, and Phil spent the next hour listening to rumors in amusement over the security cameras.

“So, based on what Rollin’s is saying, you got laid by a goddess or you killed a man on the way here, so what’ll it be?” Fury said, stepping into his office.

“Neither,” Phil said, bemused.

“So what’s got you whistling on a Monday, Coulson?” Fury flopped into the chair across from him.

“Winter and Cap aren’t sick anymore,” Phil said cheerfully.

“Hey, that’s good, how they doing?”

“Fine, better than fine. Apparently, Skull isn't a total failure. Cap’s cured of everything that should have killed him at some point in time. And hey, look at this,” Phil pushed his phone over, letting Fury see the video of Steve lifting the other Avengers in some sort of tangled mass of human and laughing wildly as Tony yelped.

Fury whistled.

“As impressive as that is, I’m liking this proud dad look on you.”

Phil chuckled. “Well, he also broke four hundred dollars worth of stuff before getting the new strength under control. Winter broke about three hundred worth. They're repeating the mantra ‘everything is an egg,’ so apparently that works.”

Fury whistled again. “How 'bout that. Hey, you taking Thanksgiving week off?”

“Bringing the kids to mom’s house,” Phil agreed. “Its family tradition. My sisters and brother will be there too. And Sergeant Poppy.”

“That’s nice. Tell Julie I said hi, alright?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

 

* * *

 

Phil had no idea how to get nine kids and himself into his own car, so he ended up taking one of the SHIELD issue plus size SUV’s, which had four rows in the back. Three rows of two, separated by a walkway, and one row of three in the very back. Usually that particular car was used for undercover equipment transportation, but suited Phil’s needs just fine.

The kids packed reasonable bags and managed to Tetris most of it in the trunk. One bag had to be buckled at the middle seat in the back, but otherwise they nailed it.

“Everybody set? Spare hearing aids, Matt’s cane and glasses-”

“Holding it and they’re on my face.”

“Packed clothes, Tony that’s to you-”

“I did! I only put inventing stuff in my backpack. Promise.”

“I checked,” confirmed Rhodey. “He forgot to pack socks and boxers, so I did it for him.”

“Did everyone leave their weapons and equipment?”

Bucky rubbed the back on his neck, down a metal arm. “Well…”

“Bucky,” Phil said disapprovingly.

“It’s just my arm!” he said. “Just in case. Nat brought a gun!” he deflected.

_“Natasha.”_

“It’s a dart gun,” she said. “It doesn’t even have the clip in yet.”

Phil sighed and put his head in his hands. “Fine. One gun.”

“And a knife.”

Phil sighed. “And a knife. One!”

Nat grumbled and slid out of the car, pulling knives off her person as she strode over the the nearby workbench.

“Okay, anybody else have anything to admit?”

Phil looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at Sam and Clint, who were looking out the windows. Clint took one look at him and cracked. “I brought my bow,” Clint rushed out. “And a few arrows.”

“Wingpack,” Sam sighed, tapping his forehead against the window.

Phil scrubbed his face with his hand. “Okay. Okay, fine. You can bring those if you bring your safety equipment too.”

“Got it,” they called out as they slid out of the car.

“Bruce, Rhodey, Steve, something to say?”

Bruce put up his hands. “I just brought books and my iPod.”

“Just my sketch stuff,” Steve said. “Couplea books.”

“I am nowhere near as reckless as these assholes, who do you think I am?” Rhodey asked indignantly.

“Don’t try that with me, James, I know you. You follow Tony everywhere just to get into trouble. Leave it,” Phil said, pointing threateningly.

“Just _one_ repulsor gauntlet-” Rhodey protested.

“ _No gauntlets. Goddammit Rhodey._ ”

Matt started laughing, curling over in the passenger seat.


	32. Family Fiasco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> long trip short, they're there.

“Okay, so quick debrief,” Phil said as they finally pull out of the hidden entrance to Tony’s lab. “There's going to be eight adults and about eight kids.”

“We outnumber them,” Natasha said in delight.

“Stop that,” Phil said idly. “My grandmother, Poppy; my mom, Julie; my two sisters, Angela and Maggie and their husbands; and my brother, Frank,” Phil sighed, “And to be honest, I don’t remember my brother’s kids names.”

“For a great spy, you sue are a shitty information collector.”

“It’s not usually relevant,” Phil defended. “Frank has this… thing against me. He never speaks to me except for Thanksgiving, which is the only holiday all Coulson family members get into one space at one time. Not even on Christmas!” Phil said, glancing back briefly.

Natasha shrugged.

“Anyway, Angela has two kids, Benjamin, who is fifteen, and Edward, who is eight. Maggie has three, Henry, eighteen, Claire, fourteen, and Tina who is ten.”

“So we have a lot of cousins.”

“We  _ are _ a lot of cousins,” Matt retorted.

“Anyway, I think you’ll get along fine with everybody. Mom might do a bit of cheek pinching, she never thought I’d have kids. Grandma, though, swears like a sailor, smokes cigars, and drinks a bit. A little angry, but mostly at stuff that happened during some war or another. She said she fought in the Cold War, and never really said anything, unless you get her to tell you a story. She will insist you call her Sergeant Poppy. Please don’t call her grandma, or heaven forbid, great grandma.”

“I like her already,” Natasha said.

“Me too.” Matt agreed.

Bucky and Steve grin at each other and nod.

Tony was staring at a hologram and had earbuds in, from which Phil can hear blaring AC-DC.

“Tony- TONY,” He called out, watching Tony jump.

“WHAT, yeah? What?” Tony pulled the right bud out.

“You’re music is too loud, turn it down to reasonable levels. Actually, Natasha, put his music on a reasonable volume.”

Tony made an offended sound as Natasha swipes the iPod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two and a half days later, they pull into the long dirt driveway of a Wisconsin house.

“That’s why Furious calls you Cheese,” Tony realized. “You are cheese, you're born and bred from cheese. Wisconsin, born and bred. Do you have any Swiss ancestors?”

“Please stop,” Phil begged. 

“Man,” Sam said suddenly. “That’s a sweet house!”

“Is it?” Matt asked, making everybody groan.

The house Phil grew up in was a large white two story monstrosity that he never understood. He had loved it though, with the surrounding trees that turned lovely colors in the fall and contrasted the white wonderfully. He remembers coloring with chalk on the wide front porch and washing it off with the hose. He can sort of see the tree directly behind the house that he built a sturdy fort in when he was thirteen

He can also see that everybody beat them there. All the cars have been lined up next to the tool shed.

Sergeant Poppy was smoking her cigar outside on the rocking chair, watching the car park with piercing clear blue eyes.

“Let me just check in with mom to find out what rooms we’re using,” Phil requested. “You can get out and stretch though.”

They all moaned with relief while Phil jogged over to the house.

“Hi, Sergeant Poppy, how are you?”

“Fine,” she said shortly, blowing out smoke. She nodded in dismissal and Phil took that as it was, he stepped into the house and was immediately scooped up in a hug.

“Peanut!” Julie cried. “It’s so nice to see you!”

“Aw, it’s nice to see you too, mom,” Phil said returning the hug.

“Phil,” Frank said disdainfully from the couch, drawing out the ‘f’ sound.

Phil sighed, no change then. “Hey, Frank.”

Phil’s mom drew back. “How’ve you been, dear?”

“Same old,” Phil smiled. “Hey, d’you mind telling me what rooms we’ll be taking so I can get the kids all set up?”

“You’re in your old room, but-” Julie bit her lip. “I don’t think we have nine rooms lying around. Not even three! Which would be doable.”

“Mom, just put them all in one room,” Phil chuckled. “Trust me, they sleep in a giant puppy pile, it’s adorable. You can take pictures. We can just inflate the air mattresses, okay?”

Julie sighed in relief. “Okay, that works. Thanks hon. The old sitting room will work fine for that then. I cleared it out last month to donate nearly everything in the old room.”

“Sounds great, mom. I’ll get the kids.” Phil looked out the window. “Ah, jeez.”

“What?”

“Clint must have insulted Natasha, she’s making him eat leaves.”

His mom burst out laughing.


	33. Meet the Coulsons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> introductions and meeting the family

“Okay, so mom, Angela, Maggie, Frank, Bill, Nathan. This is Matt, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Tony, Steve, Bucky, Rhodey, and Sam.” Phil pointed as he spoke, both for Clint’s benefit, and his families. Most of the adults were still sitting, but Phil’s mother was standing by Phil.

“Hey, y’all,” Sam said waving. The adults waved, chiming in with hi’s and hello’s.

“They’re adorable, Peanut, where did you even find them?” his mom gushed.

“In the puppy pound,” Phil said dryly. “Looking sad and miserable, dripping wet in the rain.”

“Oh hush,” his mom said, swatting him before turning back to the group. “It’s lovely to meet you all. I hope you have a good time here. All the other kids are playing out back, if you want to join them,” she offered. “We’ve got a trampoline and the treehouse is still sturdy.”

“Hey, Matt, have you ever been on a trampoline?” Natasha asked.

“Can’t say I have,” he offered his arm. 

“Me neither, let’s see how fun it actually is.” Nat and he left out the back door, arm in arm.

“Hey, Buck, let’s go make leaf piles and jump in ‘em,” Steve said with a grin. Bucky chuckled and scrambled after him.

“Wanna check out the treehouse?” Sam asked Clint, who frowned, staring at Sam’s mouth.

“I think my aids are being funny,” he said.

Sam repeated his works in sign.

“Here, I’ll fix your hearing aids,” Tony said as he signed, holding out a hand. Clint dropped them in and ran after Sam.

“I’ll help,” Rhodey offered.

“I’m going to read,” Bruce said, walking away.

And now the adults were alone, except for Tony and Rhodey, who were sitting at the living room table and sorting through Tony’s bag, which was indeed full of equipment. “Oh, they seem like nice kids, Peanut,” Julie said warmly. “Why don’t you sit and tell us more about them, we’ve hardly heard a thing!”

Phil rolled his eyes, lips quirking in amusement. He shrugged off his jacket and sat as requested. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Peanut,” Julie rolled her eyes. “All you said was that you might have adopted  _ nine kids _ and left it at that! I wasn’t even sure they existed until you asked what room they would go in!”

Phil snickered.

“Just tell me about them,” she insisted. 

Phil shrugged. “They’re good kids,” he said. “They roughhouse sometimes, but they’re respectful, have good heads on their shoulders. They all enjoy martial arts. Clint’s got quite the aim, so don’t challenge him to darts. Maggie looking at you.”

His sister laughed. “We’ll see,” she teased.

“And Matt has quite the ears,” he said, tapping his own. “And he’s got a strong sense of justice. He wants to be a lawyer, actually.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Julie enthused.

“The blind kid?” Frank asked, the first words he said to Phil all year.

Phil nodded.

Frank shrugged a little and turned back to the football game.  Well, so much for that. Phil really wished he knew where this resentment came from, but drew a blank every time he questioned it.

“What about that one armed kid and his friend?” Bill asked.

“Inseparable,” Phil said immediately. “They’ve been friends since they were little, apparently. Bucky lost his arm in an accident a while ago. He’s got a prosthetic he wears sometimes.”

“An’ th’ mousy lookin’ kid?” Nathan asked, jerking a thumb out the back door window. Bruce was at the bottom of the tree, by him was Steve and Bucky, making piles of leaves.

“Bruce,” Phil corrected. “He’s nice, calm. He makes a mean cup of tea. Wants to be a physicist,” Phil added. “And, he’s got some issues. Just don’t make him mad. He’s got DID,  dissociative identity disorder. His other personality shows up when he’s upset or scared.”

Nathan looked surprised. “That kid? He looks like he couldn't harm a fly!”

Phil shrugged. “Doesn't say anything about his mental state,” he pointed out. “But he’s got it under control. Don’t treat him like he’s something broken, that upsets him and then the rest of them get pissed off at whoever caused it.”

Phil looked out the window. “Hang on,” he groaned, walking over and throwing the door open. He whistled sharply, and shouted “Hey, bird boys!” catching Sam’s attention, just as he was about to climb higher in the bare tree. He patted Clint’s leg, making the blond stop and look around.

“No higher,” he said firmly, signing for Clint as he spoke. 

“Aw, c’mon!” Sam whined.

“No higher, I’ve got my eyes on you. Who knows the last time that tree’s been checked out for rot, or whatnot.”

Clint stuck out his tongue, but sat on the closest branch anyway.

Maggie’s kids looked over at him and then up at Clint before going back to their soccer game.

Satisfied, Phil stepped back inside. “Okay, sorry about that.”

“Oh, you make an adorable dad,” Angela teased, with a smile.

“Angie,” Phil complained.


	34. Family Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the kids have fun, Phil's mom sees him dad like a boss, and things are good

The rest of the evening went well and Phil even had a good time talking with his family about the silly things the kids had done, or what Benjamin was doing in his science classes, or what Maggie's kids were doing for their art projects. Frank just glowered and contributed when he didn’t have to respond to or say anything relating to Phil.

Sergeant Poppy came in when it was getting dark along with Clint, Sam, Natasha, Matt, and Bruce, picking the old rocking chair listening silently, rolling her eyes when someone told a ridiculous story. She made some black coffee that she finished herself, straight out of the pot much to Clint’s amazement, and threw a hard candy at Tony when he looked up from Clint’s aids from the first time in hours. 

Tony enjoyed it and said that caramel-coffee candies were his favorite.

“That’s ‘cuz your blood  _ is _ coffee,” Rhodey snarked.

“I don’t deserve that,” Tony said, waving at Clint and signing ‘Think fast’ to him before tossing the finished aids. 

Clint, in the middle of signing ‘what,’ get smacked in the face with them.

“Tony,” Phil said with a sigh, as Clint puts them in happily. 

“What? I thought the guy who’s got some of the best reflexes out of all of us could catch them!” Tony said, gesturing widely.

Bucky and Steve opened the back door, trailing in leaves after them. They looked grimy with dirt, and Phil could see more leaves stuck in their shirts and pants. Bucky was carrying a frisbee under his arm and a baseball, with a glove, in his hand.

“You two are filthy,” Phil said. “Go take a shower.”

“It’s not that bad-” Steve said looking to Bucky and trailing off. “Nevermind. Jeez, where’d all this come from?”

Bucky grinned. “The leaf pile and the dirty sandy muddy bit over by the treeline.”

“If I look anythin’ like you, I guess a shower would be good. C’mon.” He waved and the two boys vanished down the hall and up the stairs.

Julie hesitated. “They know there's only one full bathroom upstairs, right?”

“Yes,” Phil said, flipping through the file he had on his tablet.

“Um… Well, alright then,” she said, dismissing any thoughts she had on the subject.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

An hour after the kids have gone to bed, and so had half of the adults, excluding Phil, Julie, Bill, and Sergeant Poppy, Phil said, “You want to see something adorable?” to his mother.

“Is this about the puppy pile thing?” she asked.

“I have to check to make sure the kids are sleeping okay anyway,” he offered.

“Okay, fine,” she said, and follows him upstairs. Phil lived in this house for years, so he knew how to navigate it silently, sneak into rooms, avoid the creaking boards, and how to open old doors without hinges squealing.

Natasha, no matter how good she was, hadn’t lived here for that long, and Phil caught a bit of light coming from the center of the pile when he opened the door, though it quickly flicked off.

“Aw,” Julie cooed. The kids were piled together as usual; Bruce curled up in fetal position near the edge with Clint’s arm thrown around him, Bucky and Steve spooning as usual, Matt with Rhodey on one side and Sam on the other, squished between the too and head angled to he was listening to Sam’s heartbeat, and Natasha stuck in the center with Tony at her back. And despite the individual cuddling happening, they were all pressed close together, back to back when the cuddling wasn’t focused. Natasha looked to be asleep, but Phil knew better.

“Natasha,” he said quietly. “Go to bed. Your fanfiction can wait till morning.”

“...Fine,” she groused, tossing the phone onto the chair in the corner.

“Aw, I was reading that too,” Tony whisper-grumbled from where he was spooning up to Natasha.

“You’re awake?” she sounds surprised or confused. “You were reading my fic?”

“We both ship SuperBat,” he replied with a hum. “And you have good taste. That coffeeshop AU was on point.”

Phil looked at his mom, a deadpan expression on his face.

She snorted.


	35. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> self explanatory, really. Fluff and food.

Phil woke up at the same time Sergeant Poppy did, and his mom and Maggie both following suit an hour later to eat and get ready for the day. They accounted for all the food they needed to cook and put the turkey in the sink to start defrosting.

When the kids start filing down the stairs, mostly Phil’s own, but Edward and Tina as well who go to their respective mom, they check in with Phil for their morning plans.

“Sam, Bucky and I are going for a run,” Steve said, already in his running shorts and everything. Normally Phil would suggest something longer, but Steve can’t get sick and it was a pretty warm day, in the mid sixties. And that was the morning! Phil blamed global warming.

“Have you all eaten something light?” Phil asked, looking up from the paper.

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed.

“Alright, well just try and stick together and take a phone with you. Don’t forget the route you take,” he added.

“Deal.” Steve nodded.

That group left, and Bruce and Natasha came down, both already damp from what was probably a shared shower. The rest of the adults streamed down too, though most of them were in pajamas.

“We’re going to do some yoga exercises,” Natasha said, putting her wet hair in a bun that will leave her locks curly later.

“Where?” Phil asked.

“The second living room, upstairs. It’s a bit cool out. We just came down for breakfast.”

“Sounds good,” he confirmed. 

Natasha turns to Julie. “Do you have any yogurt?”

“Oh, yes. Top shelf in the fridge. Help yourself to fruit or granola too,” she said, pleased.

“ _ Dhanyavaad _ . I mean- thank you,” Bruce said shyly. He still looked a bit tired, but much more awake every second.

“Not a problem, dear, help yourself.”

While the pair were eating, Matt came down with Clint and the ladder headed toward the coffee pot. Matt sat at the table, next to Natasha. “What do you want Matt?” Clint asked as he started a new batch of coffee.

“Oatmeal,” he said. “With cinnamon?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Clint agreed. “Mrs. Coulson? Do you have any…?”

“Third shelf on your left dear. Cinnamon is on the spice rack, next to the fruit bowl,” she replied. “You can use the pot from the drying rack.”

“Ah, thanks.”

Rhodey sliped down the stairs a bit, managing to catch himself with a bitten off swear. In his hand is a sippy cup with a built in straw. “Do we have coffee ready? The zombie is up.”

“Not yet,” Clint said regretfully.

“Ah, crap,” Rhodey said, looking back at the stairs.

And slowly, ominously, Tony walked down the steps looking like a wreck. His hair was tangled and messy, he had some sort of fuzzy patch of facial hair on his face that looked ridiculous, his eyes had dark circles under them and he wasn’t even looking at anything. There was a blanket over his shoulders and Phil can plainly see that no one was home.

“Ah, buddy, come here,” Phil said sympathetically to the caffeine addict. Tony sort of trips over the couch and collapses into a lump, half in Phil’s lap. Phil dragged him up into a sitting position and let the boy snuggle up to his side. He carefully shifted so Tony’s face wasn’t squished into the sensitive scabs on Phil's chest from getting shot a month and a half before.

“What’s wrong with him?” Angela asked, Edward snuggled up to her and watching cartoons.

“Caffeine withdraw,” Phil said. “Poor kid got himself so dependent he literally can’t start the day without it as black and bitter as it comes. We tried it before. He’s just a zombie all day without it.”

She laughed.

“Got it, got it!” Rhodey said, passing Phil the ridiculous sippy cup they had to feed Tony coffee in.

Phil carefully maneuvered to wrap Tony’s hands around the cup and then put his arm back over Tony’s shoulders.

After Tony finished the first cup, like a zombie, he had the capability to get his second himself. By the third, he’s vanished back upstairs to take a shower with Rhodey and shave that fuzz away. Phil considered the half cup left in the sippy cup and shrugged, finishing it because Tony had probably forgotten. He could get a real mug if he really wanted, Phil rationalized.

Maggie laughed at him, but Phil couldn’t care less.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I made enough for nine extra people, but I’m worried about the leftovers from that,” Julie admitted as Phil helped her start setting up the dining room.

Phil barked a laugh before he can stop himself. Julie narrowed her eyes at him. “Peanut,” she said meaningfully.

“I can confirm that leftovers will not be a problem,” Phil said with a smile.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, if there are,” she warned. “You’re taking all of it.”

“Fair enough, mom.”

When dinner was ready, the kids had been found and seated, and Sergeant Poppy said a grace after saying anyone who doesn’t believe can be quiet for one damn minute, they ate.

It became obvious that it was eating knockout. People who were stuffed just stopping and leaning back, choosing to talk instead. Soon, Bucky, Steve, and Bruce matched wits until the turkey, and faux turkey for the vegetarians, was nothing but a skeleton, every single bowl was empty, the platters wiped clean and the last crescent roll vanished into Steve’s mouth, who then raised his hands in victory.

Phil laughed and ruffled Steve's hair. “I don’t know if eating that much is a victory, but I guess it is an accomplishment.”

“That was wild,” Benjamin said, wide eyed. “How did you eat that much?”

Steve put up one finger, grabbed the water to wash down whatever he was chewing, and said, “Mad skill.”

“He’s got two hollow legs,” Bucky cut in. 

“I’m so stuffed I think I’m entering a food coma,” Tony said.

“Ug, me too,” Rhodey said, leaning back in his chair.

After everybody wandered off, Rhodey, Tony, Sam, and Natasha, took a nap piled on the couch, Clint dozing at the end, but never sleeping as his attention was fixed on Dog Cops and the subtitles there.

A few hours later they fell asleep en masse back in their bedroom.

Phil felt satisfied.


	36. Sibling Rivalry (AKA Frank, sit down you FAT MOTHER-)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings for discussions of physical and verbal abuse, drug use, death of parents, violence, being trained as child soldiers, mutilation (bucky's left arm), car and train crashes, and maybe a few other things, but that's what i can pull off the top of my head. If you think i need more additions to the warning, pls comment!
> 
> Also: Frank being the dickbag I was leading up to.  
> Also Also: Awesome protectivedad!Coulson

The next day was a little warmer, so everyone went out to enjoy the nice air and watch the kids as they went running around.

Sam and Clint made a mini-tree house that resembled a bird's nest and  were conspiring up there. Matt and Bucky were on the trampoline with Tina, bounding around and trying to do flips in the air. They both could, but Phil could tell they were pretending they couldn't quite land them. Benjamin and Claire were playing soccer with Henry acting as the referee, Steve and Tony were chopping wood for Julie, Rhodey and Bruce were sitting in a pile of leaves, and Nat was next to the porch, sort of keeping an eye on everything. Franks kids stayed inside to watch the early Christmas movies that were already showing.

Edward was reading a book snuggled next to his mom, which was very cute.

Bill and Nathan were talking about sports, Poppy looked like she was about to ell Natasha a story, Julie was reading on her table, and Maggie and Angela were whispering to each other about needing to replace some furniture or other.

It was peaceful.

“Oh,” Phil said suddenly. “Mom, Nick told me to say hello and Margaret asked if she could get a pumpkin pie recipe from you.”

“The directors, right?” she asked for clarification. “Oh, not a problem. I’ll just photocopy something for Margaret, she’s such a dear. Tell Nicky I said hi too, alright?”

Heh, _Nicky_. “Sure mom.”

Frank grumbled. “Knows both the directors of SHIELD personally, unbelievable.”

“Sorry?” Phil asked, confused.

“Just saying you can shut up about being better than us,” Frank snapped.

“I’m not-” he started, frowning.

“Oh sure,” Frank said sarcastically. “You’re not better than us, Mr. High-Ranking-SHIELD-Agent. It’s not like you fight terrorists and hunt down vigalantee superheroes for your job. It’s not like you get kidnapped occasionally, or shot and walk it off like nothing. All of us got respectable jobs out of college and there you went risking your ass to join the rangers.”

“Frank-” Julie started in a warning tone.

“Then you join _SHIELD_ and turn up outta the fuckin’ blue with nine weird ass kids and your fancy fucking government car just to show off!”

“Hey,” Phil snapped, standing up and pointing. “Don’t you bring my kids into your jealousy complex, Frank.”

Frank stood up too, “Maybe you should have fucking thought of that when you decided to come here! You come here in your stupid ass suits, your history of classified missions all around the world, and those weird kids that have strange habits and  _ take showers together _ . Then there’s you, putting yourself on a fuckin’ pedestal. So much better than all of us, huh, with your fancy job-” he gave Phil a little push right on top of his bullet wounds, making Phil bite his lip and step back a bit.

“ _Interesting_ life choices that left all of us in the dust-” another shove, making Phil bite back a bark of pain. He thought of stopping his brother, but couldn’t figure out how to do that without hurting or almost killing him.

“And those freaky kids you picked up-!” He shoved Phil again, this time making Phil yelp, “Ow!” and his hands shoot up to cover the irritated scars.

An arrow sliced through Frank’s sleeves and pinned him to the wall, making him gasp in surprise. He froze as a long combat knife pressed up against his throat. Natasha positioned herself between the two men and glared, ready for anything.

All of Phil’s kids were turned and glaring daggers at Frank. Clint had another arrow knocked and Sam was holding out others for him. Steve caught Frank's eye and split apart a huge log with his bare hands, gaze unwavering. Bucky’s face was a mask, but Phil could see his fingers itching for a gun. 

Bruce was taking calming breaths as Rhodey rubbed his back soothingly. Tony just frowned, the ax up on his shoulder. He was most likely thinking how he could hack Frank’s bank accounts or some such.  Matt was sitting on the edge of the trampoline, staring with his blank eyes at Frank, a dark look crossing his features.

“Hey, whoa there,” Phil said, picking up Natasha and stepping back, bringing the knife away from Frank’s throat safely. With her pressed up against him, he could feel the gun tucked into her waistband. “Where did you hide that?”

“Does it matter?” she asked coolly.

“That’s it?” Frank blurted out, tugging at the arrow through his sleeves urgently. “You’re only going to ask where she hid it? She could have killed me!”

Natasha smiled sweetly. “If I was trying to kill you, you’d be dead.”

Frank jerked back, frightened, and ripped his sleeves in the process.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Phil said, turning and putting Natasha down. “Why don’t you kids go to the diner down the road and get milkshakes or something. You can get some money from my wallet.”

Natasha eyed Frank. “Only if he promises not to touch you again.”

“I won’t let him,” Phil said. “Now go on.”

Natasha nodded once and cast a final look to Frank, making the ‘watching you’ gesture and bringing the flat side of the knife near her neck, jerking it suddenly as if slitting a throat. She turned away, gesturing for the others to follow

Bucky led Matt and soon all nine had vanished around the house, though Clint had stopped to pull his arrow free of the wall, yanking it out roughly because Frank was still stuck. Maggie and Angela's kids went inside to watch TV, nervous about the energy coming from the adults.

“Please don’t antagonize my kids,” Phil requested. “They get… testy.”

“That girl threatened to slit my throat, that’s pushing  _ testy _ ,” Frank spat.

“She had an… unusual childhood,” Phil protested.

“And that arrow kid could have hit my hands or something!”

“He wouldn’t,” Phil dismissed. “He never misses.”

“Peanut, I think you're missing the point,” Julie said slowly.

“Frank got what was comin’ to him,” Sergeant Poppy said, lighting a cigar. Phil nodded at Poppy in agreement.

“But why did that all react like that?” Maggie asked wonderingly, looking out the the abandoned yard.

“I don’t mean no offence,” Nathan said, in his usual casual southern drawl. ”But it was pretty strange. All them kids jus’ looked over all a’ sudden.”

“Steve broke apart a log with his  _ hands _ ,” Angela agreed. “Is that even possible?”

“Strictly speaking; no. But it’s classified,” Phil said, because it was. The SHIELD clean up was one of the few that was considered classified as it had information on the Red Skull and Avengers. 

“What? Is he a mutant?” Frank asked.

“Classified,” Phil repeated. “But besides that point, Frank, don’t you dare bring my kids into your petty issue with me because I will duct tape you upside down to that tree.”

“So?” Frank growled. “The fact that you have nine of those weirdos, maybe a coupla muties, just proves my point! You think you're better than us!”

“But I don’t,” Phil said shortly. “I’m only human, Frank. Just because I ‘fight terrorists’ and ‘hunt down vigilante superheroes’ doesn’t mean I don’t get stuck at desk duty too. Just because I kidnapped sometimes doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared out of my mind or worried about what was going to happen to me. Just because I get shot on the job doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt! Getting shot _burns,_ Frank, and it feels like you're _dying_ , blood gushing out of wounds or filling your lungs so you can’t breath and everything tastes like _copper_. And just because you got a ‘respectable job’ doesn’t mean I don’t think you're important too.

“Just because I wear suits doesn’t mean I don’t wear t-shirts and sweatpants and mismatching socks. And you know what? Classified missions usually mean government secrets or cover ups for things people can’t understand or shouldn’t be exposed to. People die, Frank, sometimes in ways people aren’t ready to comprehend yet. Human experimentation, unknown viruses that make your blood boil out of your skin. Hell, there's a whole secret division focused on the existence of aliens on Earth. If that got out, there be chaos in the streets!

“And my kids? Sure they’re strange sometimes, but they’re good goddamn kids who deserve better lives than they’ve had. You want to know why they’re ‘weirdos’ Frank? Bruce’s father systematically abused him and his killed his mother in front of him. At some point at that time, he developed DID. Fearing for his life, he became a stowaway on an airplane to India. After three years he was picked up by authorities and taken back to America. While he was missing, he father died from alcohol poisoning and he’s been in the system since. Nobody wanted to adopt him because of his mental illness. 

“Tony’s mother died in a car accident when he was young and when he was thirteen his dad and he were attacked by terrorists in Afghanistan. They killed his dad and kept him in captivity for three months. He can’t take a bath by himself without having a panic attack because he was repeatedly  _ waterboarded _ . 

“Steve’s mother died of TB and his grandmother was an anti-vaxxer, she ended up screwing up his immune system and almost killing him. He can tell you what it’s like to get scarlet fever and then catch rheumatic fever immediately after. He had a  _ heart attack  _ at  _ twelve  _ before getting medication that could help prevent that. For a classified reason, he’s better now, but that doesn’t mean he's not worried that will all come back or wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare about an asthma attack that made him stop breathing.

“Bucky lost his parents and his arm in a train crash at thirteen and was stuck for six hours before a rescue team could get to him. In his foster homes he was verbally and physically abused. In the most recent foster home he was trained as a god damn child soldier. Matt was blinded at the age of ten by chemicals and his father, a boxer, was shot and killed by mobsters shortly after. He was trained by an unknown man in hand to hand combat because that man wanted him to fight in some sort of underground organization. 

“Natasha was whipped out of Russia at five and trained to be a child soldier. She can dismantle and reassemble any gun in five seconds with a blindfold on with one hand tied behind her back. She was trained in espionage and knows ten ways to kill a fully grown man with just her left hand. Rhodey’s parents were air force and killed in an attack in Iraq when he was twelve. He’s been bounced around foster homes ever since. Sam’s been in foster care since he was born and left at a fire station with an apologetic note and nothing to his name  _ but _ his name.

“Clint’s parents were drug addicts that beat him and his brother. One day his dad beat him so bad he lost eighty percent of his hearing. When those assholes died in a car accident of their own making, high on cocaine and acid, he and his brother ran away to the circus. They were there for over a year, working for food and ducking the cops. It’s where Clint learned to shoot a bow and arrow. When Clint was taken away by CPS, his brother wasn’t taken in with him. He’s still on the missing persons lists.

“So yes, they are weird, but they’re good fucking kids and if you say another goddamn word about them being freaks, I’ll drop kick you off the helicarrier, you hear me?” Phil pointed angrily, his other hand clenching in a fist.

Frank was pale and staring at him wide eyes.

“I said,” Phil growled, grabbing a fistful of Franks shirt and pulling him closer. “Do. You. Hear. Me?”

Frank nodded frantically.

“Good,” Phil said, letting him go and watching Frank stumble back a bit. “Now, I’m going to the diner to get a milkshake, I’ll be back with the kids later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took me a while to update!!


	37. Those Milkshakes Bring all the Boys (And Natasha) to the Yard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and now Frank will stop being an asshole
> 
> fluff ahead!

The diner at the end of the road was an old fashioned diner that Phil had gone to every Friday as a teenager. Each time he brought a smoothie, a different flavor every time because that was what they were famous for. As he drank chocolate-strawberry, vanilla-caramel, or blueberry-raspberry shakes, he read the comic book he had purchased at the comic shop three blocks from his school.

His favorite had been the blueberry vanilla, and because of his long time dedication, he’d had the drink saved to the menu and given his name. You could buy a Philip Blueberry Shake for two dollars and ninety nine cents. Even in his thirties, Phil was proud.

He looked around, spotting his kids crammed into the booth in the right most corner, nearest the bathroom.

“Well, bless my heart,” Phil heard looking around and grinning at Miss Tymond the owner of the diner. “It’s lil’ ol’ Phillip Coulson. How are you dear?”

“Just fine, Miss Tymond.” He smiled. “Came around to see you and check on my rascals.”

“Those nine in the corner?” she asked in a thick southern accent.

“Yep,” Phil smiled. 

“Ha, they told me but I didn’t quite yet believe it. Anyway, you go on ahead, I’ll bring you a Phillip, hows that sound?”

“Fantastic, Miss Tymond, thank you.” Phil  walked over to the cramped booth.

“Okay, based on the buildings in New York, I think a eight story apartment would be perfect,” Tony was saying. “Oh, hey  _ babbo _ .”

“Hey, kid. How’s your shake?”

“I think it’s pretty good,” Tony said. “I got lemon-vanilla.”

“I didn’t know red licorice was a shake flavor,” Matt said. “But I am loving it.”

The shakes all around the table were different colors and half empty, though Natasha’s was gone and she was holding her head because of what was obviously a brain freeze.

“What have you been working on,” Phil asked curiously, looking at the tablet on the table.

“We’re talking about housing options for when we grow up,” Tony said. “None of us want to live in the mansion forever, so we’re talking about renovating a building at the edge of Hell's Kitchen. That way, we all live close by but can go over to each others ‘apartments’ any time we like. It might get tricky to buy something big enough for all nine of us, be in a sort of middle class area, and have enough personal space to invite friends over. Therefore, we’re talking about getting an eight story building, two people per floor, one on the fifth with a lab for me filling the other half, a gym on the fifth, avengers stuff on the sixth, short firing range on the seventh, and a recreational space on the eighth.”

“Sounds great,” Phil said. “Smart too. When you get Stark Industries you’ll be close by and you’ll still be in New York.”

“And my floor is going to be amazing,” Clint said, showing a piece of paper that’s been scribbled over to show a room with a staircase, a small kitchen and a big living room. “Tony’s letting us design our floors, he just makes sure outlets are in the right places and whatever.”

“It’s got promise,” Phil said. “Is that a loft bedroom?”

“I like being in high places,” Clint said defensively.

“Hey, all the power to you,” Phil said in amusement. “Purple walls too?” Phil could see Clint’s messy scribble on what should be the walls and it looked like the word ‘purple’, so he has to assume.

“You bet, purple is the best.”

“Is it?” Matt asked.

Everybody groaned and Matt grinned into his shake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the week at Phil’s childhood home went well. Frank didn’t bother them and the kids had fun running around causing trouble. Clint climbed up the chimney and started quoting Monty Python's  _ The Holy Grail _ , using the terrible French accent depicted in the film. Phil had to climb up after him and forcefully remove the boy while being called a ‘knigget.’

Angela laughed at him. Maggie joined her.

They left on Monday and drove back home.


	38. Christmas (And Hanukkah) is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did my best researching what jewish ppl do for Hanukkah, but I am not jewish and google is wrong sometimes, so tell me if something is wrong!

Life continued on, and Christmas swiftly approached.

“I don’t know what to get the kids,” Phil said at the office at the beginning of December.

Hill looked over. “What?” She’d been on a mission all last week, and had just gotten up from a twenty hour nap.

“I don’t know what to get my kids for Christmas. Or Hanukkah. I’m at a loss here.”

“Get them toys,” Hill said. “Or something.”

“My kids are teenagers, Hill. They’re over toys.”

“Clothes, books, games, electronics,” she said next.

Phil considered. “That’s do-able. Except electronics. Tony makes better electronics than any competitor. Bucky gets eight presents for Hanukkah, so I should probably match that with the rest of them.”

“That’s… seventy two presents,” Hill said, awed.

“Yes, but some things can be small things,” Phil pointed out. “Like candy, or something. And I’m not exactly poor. I’m a level seven agent. I got shot twice this year, too, so I get an apology bonus.”

She nodded and then said, “Oh, wait, I forgot they were Avengers for a minute. You could get them guns.”

Phil looked at her disapprovingly, knowing that some of them would like guns anyway. On second thought, that might be a good idea. “Ah, hell. You’re right.”

Phil pondered what he could get his hands on and also remembered the failed prototypes that R&D had been putting out. He could collect those and give them to Tony to fiddle with. He likes insulting SHIELD's R&D department, but can’t just come in and stroll around and make fun of the hard working scientists and engineers.

He could get Natasha new ballet stuff and maybe some artfully crafted knives. Sure, Tony made strong, efficient, balanced knives, but he wasn’t an artist. He saw Natasha Pinterest, and he knew it was full of re-pinned iridescent blades or knives hidden in lipstick vials.

And swords.

“Ah, dammit, you're giving me bad ideas,” Phil groused, making Hill laugh.


	39. Happy Holidays (whatever that may be)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a comment-er that I hope makes sure id didn't fuck up Hanukkah. enjoy part one or the kids holiday!

The first day of Hanukkah, Phil put a menorah on the dining room table and Bucky stared for a good few minutes.

“Happy Christmahanakka,” Phil said, showing the box of candles in his hands as he placed one in the middle slot and another at the far end. In the corner of the room was a decorated christmas tree, a few ornaments with the Star of David on them and blue and white lights instead of red and green. Phil already had all the presents he bought underneath it, as it was Christmas Eve, but Bucky’s were still hidden in Phil’s room.

“This is amazing, thank you,” Bucky said, awed.

“ _Run to your closet, find your Christmas sweater, screaming carols all the way fa-la-la-la-la. Maine all the way to California it's the Christmas can-can, halloween to Christmas day. It's the most wonderful time of year, we're running mad with Christmas cheer~!_ ” Phil heard come from down the hall, watching in amusement as Tony burst in with a sack of presents, a Santa hat upon his head. JARVIS automatically started up background music. “ _Hey, what's troubling you, my friend?”_

 _“It’s not fair if you’re jewish, jewish-”_ Bucky retorted. _“Not fair if you're jewish, jewish!”_ Bucky started dancing, spinning like a top. _“Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel, I made it out of clay. You realize that Christmas ain't the only holiday!”_

Phil laughed and Matt appeared with the rest of the group.

“I heard Christmas music,” Matt explained. “And I smell chocolate.”

“Ah,” Phil said amused. “You’ve got me.” Phil slid the present wrapped in blue wrapping paper across the table to Bucky. “First present of Hanukkah.”

Bucky blinked and brought it closer. “Let me light the shammus first, it’s sunset.”

Phil slid him a box of matches and Bucky struck one, lighting the candle and saying a prayer in Hebrew, one hand over the top of his head. He then used the shammus to light a second candle, the one that represented the first night of Hanukkah. 

When he was done, he grabbed the box again, opening the wrapping to reveal a polished wooden box, inside were three different dreidels, one in metal, one in glass, and one in wood. Surrounding them were dozens and dozens of chocolate coils wrapped in gold foil. Chocolate gelt, as it was called. “Hey, this is great! Thanks pops.”

“Can you teach me how to play?” Natasha asked.

“Course,” Bucky replied. Phil sat back in the chair near the fireplace and watched the kids banter and argue over chocolate coins, feeling settled and relaxed.

“I didn't make a ‘Christmas’ dinner, but I did make mac and cheese, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes and chocolate pie,” Phil offered when it looked like the kids were getting hungry.

“Sign me the fuck up.”

“Language,” Phil said, pointing at Tony.

Tony gave him a very unimpressed look.

“Listen, my missions are classified, you should never have heard any of that,” Phil said defensively.

 

* * *

 

Phil woke up the the mattress dipping and he jerked up, bracing himself on his arms. Tony blinked at him in surprise. “It’s, um, Christmas,” he explained.

Phil looked at the alarm clock beside the bed. “It’s Christmas at three in the morning,” Phil said.

“How early are you supposed to get up for Christmas?” Tony asked curiously, sounding distressed.

“When I was little, six AM, when I was your age, I slept in till eleven.”

“Can we split the difference?”

“You can wake me up at seven,” Phil said finally. “Now go to bed.”

“But I’m already here!”

Phil grumbled and scooted over.


	40. Christmas Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas!

“Hey,” Tony whispered. “It’s six fifty nine. Can we get up yet? We did secret Santas and I wanna know who got me what.”

Phil sighed. “I’m up, I’m up,” he said, pushing himself into a sitting position and yawning. “I’m taking a shower then making pancakes."

“Yes!” Tony cheered and shot out of the room.

“I can’t believe that boy is awake,” Phil muttered, pushing himself out of bed. “Makes no sense whatsoever.”

 

* * *

 

When Phil was clean and dressed in sweatpants and an ugly Christmas sweater, he made his way to the dining room to find all the kids scattered about excitedly.

“Food first,” Phil said. “And then presents.”

Phil made enough pancakes to feed a small militia and they ran out of syrup, meaning they had to get another bottle out of the pantry. Phil also made a pot of hot chocolate with candy canes stuck in them and passed those out. Phil saw Tony put a shot of espresso in his hot cocoa, and decided that was close enough to Tony’s morning coffee.

“Okay, now we can open presents. Go root through the pile and find out which ones are yours,” Phil said. 

Whoops and cheers filled the room as the kids scrambled over and started picking and sorting, passing gifts from hand to hand. To Phil's surprise, several boxes were left on his preferred chair.

“Let’s open them one at a time,” Bruce suggested. “So we can see what everybody else got.”

“See?” Matt asked, making everyone groan.

“Natasha, you first,” Clint said, scooting over to see the long box she had picked out of hers.

She nodded and started ripping away the wrapping paper to reveal a beautiful carved box. Opening the lid, she gasped and carefully lifted out the  27.5" red two tone blade sword. It also came with two throwing knives and a sheath. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” Natasha said. “Thank you,  _ papa _ !”

Clint started describing it for Matt, who looked fascinated.

“Hey, that's awesome!” Tony said. “Me next!” He ripped open his own box, finding a box labeled, ‘Cards Against Humanity’. “Oh, nice! Thanks  _ babbo _ !”

When everybody opened all their presents, Phil tallied up everything open. First off, Bucky, who was Bruce's secret Santa selection and gotten a snuggie. He would get the rest of his presents later, because he didn't really celebrate Christmas. Luckily, Bucky didn't seem left out. In fact, he looked like he was enjoying himself.

Tony got Cards Against Humanity, prototypes from SHIELD, a new set of wrenches, a ring that told the time, two ACDC shirts, rollerskates, a mug that said “Trust me, I’m an Engineer” a few packs of sour candies, and fancy coffee from italy, which was from Matt.

Natasha got the sword, new ballet shoes in black, a new gun, a shirt that read ‘Proud Supporter of Messy Hair and Sweatpants’, a knife hidden in a tube of red lipstick, spider earrings, a book that had a hidden compartment instead of actual literature, some nice knives, and a gift from Tony that he called ‘Widow Bites’, which shot bullets of electricity _.  _

Bruce got a pulse per minute watch, a set of teas and new mugs, books on physics, Star Trek original series, a camera, a vegetarian cookbook, a beautiful new yoga mat with an artistically designed elephant on it, noise canceling headphones, and a toy lightsaber from Steve.

Steve got a new sketch pad and pencils, modeling clay, a Brooklyn Dodgers t-shirt, a record player with a few records, calligraphy pens, water colors, new training boxing gloves, running shoes, and a snow globe from Clint that played a piece from the Nutcracker and had a pretty black ballerina in it.

Matt got a new law book in braille, a watch that could tell the time by touch, a nerf gun, a lock pick kit, new glasses with dark red round frames, a beautiful wooden carved music box, the Hamilton Soundtrack on CD, diffuser and oils, and a glow in the dark shirt that said ‘If the Lights Are Off, Tell Me” from Bucky.

Clint received a dart board, a nerf gun, a shirt that said ‘Caw Caw Motherfucker’, a sniper rifle, a skateboard, all available seasons of Dog Cops on DVD, a necklace with an arrow on it, binoculars, and a ‘Human Disaster’ shirt from Rhodey. 

Sam got a drone that he named Redwing and Tony asked to install an AI on it, a shirt that said ‘Wake Up, Kick Ass, Be Kind, Repeat’, a switch blade, a new handgun, a beginners guide to psychology, sweet candies, a new running shirt and pair of shorts, tap shoes, and an orange juice watch from Natasha.

“It’s been forever since I tap danced,” Sam said. “I might be rusty, but I liked it. Thanks dad!”

Rhodey got a model plane, one of those maze balls, a space hoodie, a Pi shirt that had the actual number sequence of Pi in the bigger shape of the symbol, a multi tool, a Death Star lego set, a book on piloting, marshmallow guns, and red and white Michael Jordan shoes from Sam.

“Oh, shit!” Rhodey said, putting them on. “Oh, damn, Tones your never borrowing my shoes again, hot damn!”

Hidden in Phil’s room were the rest of Bucky’s presents for the next few days. Along with the dreidels and candy, he would be getting new knives, a shirt that said ‘Well, I’m Stumped’ that had amused and interested Bucky in the past, prompting Phil's getting it, a sniper rifle, a book of mechanics, an electric guitar, a multi tool, and some basic gardening stuff with flower seeds.

“Now come on,  _ babbo _ , open yours!” Tony encourages, making the others announce their agreements.

Phil chuckled and grabbed the one from Tony. Inside was a neat black tie and Tony excitedly explained that inside was an electric strip, safe to wear but it could also be used to wrap up a fist and punch a bad guy with a little more sting. The electric part was only in one place, so Phil wasn’t affected as well. Machine washable too. It was very clever.  From Bruce he got a kids book called ‘Sender Unknown’. Bruce said he would like it anyways and Phil promised to read it soon. 

From Matt he got a gun shaped stress toy. From Natasha he received a he got a knife/ballpoint pen, Clint got him a ‘Best Dad/Secret Agent Ever’ mug, a Black Lives Matter shirt from Sam, 10 of the original  _ Superman _ comic books from Steve, a few pack of comical knee high socks from Rhodey, which Phil vowed to use to mess with the newbie agents, and Bucky got him seven seasons of Supernanny.

He loved them all, and soon they were Skyping Phil’s family to talk about their plans for the holiday and the neat gifts they got. Phil had bought his mother a set of power tools, Sergeant Poppy got a new cigar snipper, a pack of foreign cigars, and a small box of hard candies. Angela had received a fancy but simple bracelet, Maggie got a deck of cards and poker chips, and Phil had sent Fred a cookbook, as he was a recently divorced man with three kids.

In return, Phil had gotten a chess board from his mother, an old revolver from Sergeant Poppy (where she had that he has no idea), a pocket watch from Frank, a Superman fleece blanket from Maggie, and a tin filled with cookies from Angela.

It was a good holiday.


	41. Back to Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, i was doing some work on my new fic (and not to self promote, but i'm pretty proud so check it out if you like spies and stucky)

On January sixth, Phil’s first day back at work, he was pleased to see that they had new recruits coming in and he was wearing one of the ridiculous pairs of socks Rhodey had bought him. Fury took one look at him and bust out laughing, “Oh this is going to be great!” he exclaimed. “Oh, god, I gotta film this to put it in some instructional video or something, Jesus Christ.”

Phil stepped into the training room, the new agents milling around the boxing ring and talking to each other.

Fury’s presence made them snap to attention, and the man himself began.

“Well, welcome to your first day training at SHEILD. I know all y’all have instruction in hand to hand combat of some form, military or otherwise, but I’m here to tell you that all means jack shit as of now. The guys you’ll be meeting out on the field usually have guns and that's that, but sometimes they’ll be looking for a fight and you’ll be able to initiate hand to hand. This tactic is preferable in situations where civilians or hostages are involved or if you just have a higher chance of winning. Here’s the problem though, those assholes are playing to win and kill you, so you make a mistake here? Lose a match here? You’re dead out there. Like a doornail.

“Obviously we don’t want that, so I’m letting my good friend Agent Coulson show you what you’ll actually be up against. Then you’ll be split into groups and distributed to the actual instructors. Coulson will be in charge of oversight and exposing you to actual situations you might encounter in the field as well.”

As one they all looked down at his socks; socks with cartoonish red and white striped old fashioned popcorn bags with yellow-white popcorn up by his knees. Phil was very proud. “I put these on to get you all to underestimate me,” Phil announced. “My son got me these.”

“Now, which one of you wanna try to beat Phil in a sparring match?” Fury asked. “And I will be filming this for my own purposes.”

The newbies muttered among themselves, a few of them looking at Phil and smirking like imbeciles. Phil just stood there, arms crossed in front of his chest, staring in an unimpressed fashion at the group. Eventually a group of men started urging a big man forward, grinning like self confident idiots.

Fury nodded with his chin. “Ryan Grant, Navy Seal,” he told Phil.

“Oh, that’s cute,” Phil said back.

“What’s cute is the fact that you’re wearing socks your son bought you, now go on.”

“Kick his ass, boss?”

“Impress me,” Fury said, pulling up his camera and pointing it at the mat.

Phil cracked his knuckles and stepped forward.

“Do you want the first shot, or should I?” Phil asked, getting into is neat position.

Grant opened his mouth to answer and Phil moved. The importance of this lesson was two things, one, to show that underestimating your opponent meant you were dead, and two, that you could be dead in seconds if you gave the other person the advantage.

Sure, Grant was bigger, bulkier and heavier than Phil, but Phil was fast, small, compact and _underestimated_.

This particular move Natasha taught him. Lightning quick, Phil jumped up and kicked Grant in the chest with both feet. The momentum from this sent him back toward the ground like a stone, but instead of letting that knock the breath from his lungs, he rolled back into it, using his hands to prevent him from going too far or hit his head. This had a spring like effect, and he then swung his legs forward to snap back up to his feet.

Grant stumbled back, breath kicked out of his lungs and surprise evident.

Now on his feet, and a few good paces away, Phil shot forward and jumped a second time, this time wrapping his legs, mostly his calves, around Grant’s neck and leaned back. This additional weight sent the man falling forward, and Phil twisted like an eel to finish the full flip and send the idiot into a hard summersalt of his own, while he himself made it back soundly to his feet.

Humiliated and pained, Grant gasped painfully and didn’t try to get back up in time for a second attack. “Trick question,” Phil said. “The enemy is never going to let you have the first shot. In this scenario, you would be dead or captured. Nice job, rookie.”

“Aw man, Cheese, I’m seriously resisting the urge to upload this to YouTube. Think of view count we’d get.” Fury said.

“Maybe later boss,” Phil said with a smile. Then he turns to the group again. “Let’s start with an introduction, shall we? My name is Agent Phil Coulson. I’m a level seven agent and I’ve been with SHIELD for about 16 years. In the next couple of months you will hear many rumors of me. That I’m an android, that I’ve killed a man with a paperclip, some say I have no emotions, others say that I took down an attack squad with nothing but a pen, and so on. At least half of them are true.

“And this?” He gestures to the trainee still on the ground, hands over his face in embarrassment. “Child's play. My job over the next year or so it to shove reality in your face. I’m going to be the one to pepper spray you so you know what it’s like and can fight just as efficiently as ever when your eyes burn and breathing feels like your lungs are on fire. I’m going to be the one to show you what a interrogation is like in the field. I’m going to break your fingers so you can stare down an enemy interrogate and spit blood on his face. Any questions?”

A timid hand rose slowly.

“Yes?”

“Are you… really going to break fingers?” a small woman asked.

“Yes,” he said. “But would you rather know what it feels like here, in a controlled environment with medical professionals standing by, or in a dirty cell because some criminal got the drop on you and kept you alive for information?”

“Here,” she admitted.

“Exactly. My training is supposed to prep you for real life problems and experiences, all based off things that happened to me and other agents I’ve worked with. Our satisfactory reports say that it’s been some of the most helpful training they’ve experienced and it’s helped them out of a lot of situations.”

“Hey, aren’t you the guy who got shot twice defending the Avengers?” someone in the back asked.

“That’s not relevant, and that agent was fired for his inability to listen to senior agents and shooting me. Also, now seems to be a good time to say we are going to shoot you at some point, so you know how to react accordingly and know what that feels like.”

“What the fuck.”

“He’s getting it,” Phil said, pointing at Grant, who had spoken. “This job is insane. You will experience insane things. You will get hurt, maybe shot, you will have no idea what to do in a given situation, and it will be the most rewarding and amazing experience you will be a part of.”

The faces before him looked around at each other, considering and intrigued.

“Tell them about the new thing we’re trying,” Fury said.

“Oh, and we’ll be doing some new things this year to see if it can benefit you all. None of it is dangerous, before you get worried. People have been complaining about some things. Director Fury’s point is just that they might work, they might not, but it won’t affect you negatively.”

They seemed alright with that.

They were going to get their asses kicked.

 

* * *

 

“Well, I see everybody’s fingers are better,” Phil said approvingly a few months later, looking at the recruits. Men and women who have gotten harder, more talented, developed strong wills and quick wits.

Phil was really going to enjoy this.

“Are we doing another exercise?” Grant asked.

“Of a sort. This is one of the new ones. You’re the test group today. I have a visitor coming in to run you through the basics. You know how some of our best undercover agents have been working with you on stealth tactics and close quarter combat?”

A general nod swept over the group.

“Well, you’re not quite up to par, and we’re going to see if we can do better. If you do even better than last year's group during the tests, then I’ll count it as a success. This _is_ going to be embarrassing for all of you. Now, let me get our guest. Men, grab a crotch cup, and everyone put on your training gloves. You might want a face mask.” Phil gestured to the table at the end of the room.

This specific room was usually kept empty, but the entire floor was now covered in a mat, the bright white light illuminating the space and leaving no room for shadows. This room had no windows either.

Phil stepped out into the hall. “Ready to give them hell?”

“You bet,” Matt said, cane in hand. He showed his boxing gloves and raised an eyebrow over his red glasses, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Phil ruffled his hair. “Yeah, get in here, you little devil.” Matt laughed and swatted his hand away, walking back in with Phil. The group had gotten all dressed up and a few men were hastily shoving cups into their pants.

“Trainees, this is my son. He’s about to embarrass you and I’m going to watch in amusement and send a video to Directors Fury and Carter.”

Phil took the night vision goggles off the table.

“Wait, he’s blind?”

“Yes. Which is exactly why he’s perfect for this exercise,” Phil said. “I think its pretty clear already what to expect. Matt?”

“I’m almost ready,” he confirmed, taking off his glasses, and putting them on the empty table. Next, he put down his cane and pulled on the mask, slipping on his gloves.

Once set, he clicked once. “Only fifteen of them?” he asked.

“Have fun anyway,” Phil said, watching Matt reach for the big light switch.

“Oh god, wait-” someone said panicked.

**_Ka-chunk!_ **

The room was plunged into darkness, deep inky blackness that never seemed to end. Five people screamed right off the bat and the others growled at them to shut up. Phil slipped on his goggles and watched them fumble in the dark for a second.

“Two rules,” Phil announced. “One, if you’re on the ground for any length of time, you're out. Two, if you’re out, make your way to a wall and I’ll escort you out of the room.”

“What?”

“Don’t wet yourself,” he added. “Don’t make it hard on the janitors. Start in three… two… one… and, go.”

“Fuck! This is utter- “ the trainee cut off with a choking sound as Matt drove his covered fist into her stomach. She fell back and scrambled to her feet, swinging wildly.

“ _It’s easier to find you if I can hear you,_ ” Matt sing-songed.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” someone gasped in a panic, moving back, hitting another agent, and screaming a bit.

“Focus you idiots, the kid’s blind!”

“And we are too you fucking asshole!”

Matt had a bit of fun with them first, sweeping past them to let them feel the air shift, put hands on their shoulders and yank them around. Phil was filming with night vision camera, utterly amused. After a while of scare tactics, Matt jumped into action, flipping and twisting between clumsy agents, ramming his fists into soft flesh while the recruits flail like newborn giraffes.

Occasionally someone would get a lucky punch, but they seem so surprised that they lose the advantages.

After eight minutes, the first person dropped out, covering their head in fetal position. They crawled toward a wall and sit with their back pressed to it, still cowering. Phil easily weaved through the fumbling men and women, approaching him with loud footsteps to warn the trainee.

“Hey, it’s Agent Coulson, I’m going to lead you out of here, alright?”

He nodded frantically, wide eyes trying to find him. Phil carefully stood the young man up and weaved him through the rest of them.

Opening the door he let a flood of light in, letting the trainees see the first defeat and the shape of Matt with his fists up and maniacal grin on his face. Phil shut the door at the shout of terror, putting the man to sit against the wall near the door.

Phil pushed up his goggles, squinting against the light. “You alright?” he asked.

“I got scared,” the agent admitted. “And my chest hurts.”

“Do you need me to call medical?” Phil asked.

“No, no, I think I just need to… sit.”

“Alright, you hang out out here, I’ll come out with others when they’re done too.”

The young man nodded and brought his knees up to his chest.

Phil pulled down his goggles and stepped back into the room, surprised at the defeat before him. Two more people were by the wall and Matt beating up the others was audible. He was sort of laughing too, scaring the shit out of people.

Phil muffled a laugh and went to lead more people out.

* * *

 

“Okay, would anyone like to tell me how that could have gone better?”

All fifteen sets of eyes glared, though some of them just looked defeated.

“Alright, let’s start here. You all got beat up by my kid. My blind kid. You have the advantage of being bigger, stronger, and have a larger group. What could you have done differently?”

“We probably could have… worked together?”

“Exactly. Teamwork is very important in our line of work. What else?”

“Maybe we could have tried using out other senses,” a woman grudgingly admitted.

“And you could have taken advantage of the times any of you got lucky hits instead of being surprised by the fact that you touched anything. Surprise isn’t a good thing to be caught by in our line of work. You panicked. All of you panicked, and that’s why you got beat. You didn’t take the time to analyze your situation and come up with ideas on how to solve your problem or compensate. That kind of ineptitude will get you killed in the field.”

Phil looked down at his clipboard. “I’m expecting you all to redo that exercise yourselves and see if you can get better at figuring out how that’s supposed to work. Learn to use the senses you have when one is blocked. We’ll be doing a different test with blocked hearing too, later.”

“With Clint?” Matt asked.

“Yep,” Phil said, scribbling himself a note.

“Oh, maybe you should have them train with Steve after.”

Phil considered. “Hey, that’s a good idea.”


	42. Tesseract Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go; Avengers time!

“I’ll only be at the Tesseract base for a week or two,” Phil said, packing and mentally going over what he needs. “I need oversee the late stages of a project. I’ll call when I can, and I know that some of you have been trying to learn to cook, so I expect there not to be a stack of pizza boxes and bad take out.”

“Do you really have to go?” Clint asked.

Phil sighed. “Yes. Officially, I can be sent wherever, whenever on orders from the World Security Council or the directors because I don’t have kids.” He shrugged. “You know how it is.”

“Yeah, still sucks though.”

“What do kids do when their parents travel?” Tony asked, eyes brows drawing together in thought. “Oh! I’ll make a snack!” and he bolted from the room.

Phil laughed and was pleased to see homemade donuts a few hours later.

 

* * *

 

Phil hated Phase 2 and the Tesseract made him antsy, but a job was a job and he had orders. Hopefully, with his supervision, nothing bad would happen and everyone would go home safe and sound by the time Phil could leave.

But then the tesseract started behaving and  _ misbehaving _ and Phil had to greet Fury at the helicopter pad.  Fury and Hill walk over to him as he anxiously held onto his file.

“How bad is it?” Fury asked over the helicopter roar.

“That’s the problem, sir, we don’t know,” Phil said honestly, and led them inside. A call for an evacuation had been issued, and agents were bustling around, getting equipment and personnel out of the building.  “Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract four hours ago,” Phil explained.

“NASA didn't authorize Selvig to test phase,” Fury said, annoyed.

“He wasn't testing it, he wasn't even in the room. Spontaneous event,” Phil clarified, stepping away from a heavy looking cart and a tired engineer as she passed.

“It just turned itself on?” Hill asked. 

“What are the energy levels now?” Fury said at the same time, making the two look at each other.

“Still climbing. When Selvig couldn't shut it down, we ordered the evacuation.”

Fury bit his lip. “How long to get everyone out?”

“Campus should be clear in the next half hour,” Phil estimated. 

Fury thought about that as they walked down the stairs. “Call out an order to go faster and stay with me, Coulson. I might need more information.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, grabbing his walkie-talkie and barking a few orders into it.

“Sir, evacuation may be futile.” Hill pointed out.

“We should everyone to go back to sleep?” Fury retorted with an eyebrow raised.

“If we can't control the Tesseract's energy, there may not be a minimum safe distance,” she pointed out, and Phil had to hand it to her there. The tesseract was an artifact that had been with the SSR and then SHIELD since the beginning, though they only just now started having the technology capable of harnessing the energy it contained.

“I need you to make sure that PHASE Two prototypes are shipped out,” Fury ordered Hill instead.

“Sir, is that really a priority right now?” Hill asked, flabbergasted.

“The W orld Security Council seems to think so.  Until such time as the world ends, we will act as though it intends to spin on. Clear out the tech below. Every piece of PHASE Two on a truck and gone.”

“Yes, sir,” Hill said skeptically and turned to a pair of nearby agents. “With me.”

Phil and Fury entered the tesseract chamber soon after, Fury going ahead of Phil to talk to Selvig. Phil hung back, already knowing what Selvig would say.

“Talk to me, doctor," Fury said.

The Tesseract was glowing unusually bright, and flared rings shoot off it at random. Phil felt uneasy looking at it, worrying both about himself and the kids at home.

“-far from complete. Now she's throwing off interference, radiation. Nothing harmful, low levels of gamma radiation.”

Phil blinked. “That can be harmful,” he said immediately.

Fury looked over to him. He considered the tesseract and said, “I gave you this detail so you could keep a close eye on things.”

“I did, sir.”

“Then did you see anything that might set this thing off?”  A tech said something to Doctor Selvig and he turned to talk to her, checking the technology.

“No one's come or gone. Selvig’s clean. No contacts, no I.M.'s. If something cause this it wasn't at this end,” Phil reasoned.

Fury looked away from the cube again, staring at Phil. “At this end?”

“Well,” Phil said, hugging his file folder close. “The files and calculations say that the Tesseract is a doorway to the other end of space.” Phil shrugged. “Doors open from both sides.”

Suddenly the Tesseract shook the entire facility. Fury took a step to regain his balance and Phil put his hand on Fury’s shoulder to maintain his. The energy output was making the Tesseract brighter and brighter. P hil pulled Fury further away, as a precaution, until they were near the equipment set up. The fizzing and sparks coming from the Tesseract focused into a beam that hit the platform at the other end of the cavernous room. 

This started forming a dark bubble and Phil briefly thought it was a black hole until he saw stars and the swirling vortex of space in the inky shape. It expanded and expanded until it suddenly imploded, sending a burst of light and a strong wind, making everyone cover their eyes.

When Phil looked to the platform again there was a dark form crouched there holding a golden spear with a glowing blue stone upon it.

The armored agents approach slowly, weapons raised as the form stood carefully, holding the scepter cautiously. With the swirling blue light that gathered in the dome, Phil could see that it was a tall thin white man with dark hair in what looked to be leather armor. He looked Asgardian, sort of like Thor, all those months back.

The man looked at Phil, Fury, and Selvig in particular. An uneasy feeling crept up Phil’s spine.

“Sir, please put down the spear!” Fury called.

The man looked at his scepter, like he had forgotten it was there, and pulled it back, shooting a blue bolt at Fury. Phil tackled the director, saving him from the beam that instead slammed into instruments behind them, blowing them to melted smithereens.

All hell broke loose, machine gun fire started up as Phil and Fury rolled to their feet. Phil looked up to see the bullets bounce off the man like nerf darts. The attacker jumped at several guards with his staff, killing them with ease from either the blade at the end or the energy beam. He also threw knives, blades finding skin and dropping agents like flies.

Phil and Fury both fired from a distance, but it got them nowhere. The man took a second to shoot at the pair, making them separate and dive away. 

The man stopped and waited to see who would attack him next, having downed the other armed agents. Phil quickly tried to stand up, grabbing at his knife as the man approached him. If guns didn’t work, maybe a blade would. Phil lashed out, but the other man caught his wrist and twisted, putting his arm at an angle that made it nearly impossible to move.

The man considered him and said, “You have heart.”

Phil looked desperately to Fury, but the man was frozen in place, staring in shock.

Phil felt the press of the scepter to his chest and his eyes shot over to the man. Ice filled his veins, staring at his heart and creeping up his neck, leaving a soft warmth behind. Blue filled his vision and…

_Oh! Oh_.

Oh, what _truth_ the tesseract held, what _knowledge_.  Phil was still marveling over the fresh crystal clear vision he now had, so he didn’t do anything when Loki dropped his hand and let Phil holster his knife.   Phil watched easily as Loki did the same to the few of the remaining agents.  

“Please don't. I still need that,” Loki said, and Phil looked over to Director Fury, frowning.

Fury stopped, briefcase in hand and voice tight when he said, “This doesn't have to get any messier.”

“Of course it does!” Loki said with flourish. “I've come too far for anything else. I am Loki, of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose.”

Selvig perks up. “Loki? Brother of Thor?”

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Director Fury said calmly, turning around.

“An ant has no quarrel with a boot,” Loki said with a grin.

“You planning to step on us?” Director Fury asked tightly.

Loki made a large easy gesture. “I come with glad tidings, of a world made free.”

“Free from what?” Director Fury asked.

“Freedom. Freedom is life's great lie. Once you accept that, in your heart…” Loki spun, touching the staff to Selvig’s chest. The energy crept up the physicists neck and filled his eyes with blue, making Phil wonder idly if his eyes matched. “You will know peace,” Loki finished.

And this was what he was feeling. Peace. It was calm, easy, relaxing. His breathing was easy and sure. He was ready to take orders.

Director Fury scoffed. “Yeah, you say peace, I kind of think you mean the other thing.”  The energy started crackling in the dome and Phil looked over. He should tell Loki before anything bad happened.

“Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to collapse in on itself. He’s trying to bury us.” Loki gave him an approving look and Phil feels the contentment settle further.

“Like the pharaohs of old,” Director Fury confirmed.

Selvig looked at his monitors. “He's right. The portal is collapsing in on itself. You got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.”

Loki considered, and looked at Phil. “Well, then…”

Phil grabbed his gun and hesitated for a split second, the kids would hate it he killed anybody. Well, he could just injure the director and let the cave in finish him off.

He shot the directors bullet proof vest dead center, making them man fall over with the impact. Phil was certainly Fury wasn’t dead and as he passed, Phil grabbed the case containing the Tesseract and left the lab with Loki, Selvig and the other S.H.I.E.L.D personnel Loki showed the truth.

 

* * *

 

Loki lead them to the parking lot under the facility, the agents quickly gathering certain weapons. Agent Hill watched in confusion.

Phil said, “We need these vehicles.”

And Hill responded with, “Who's that?” referring to Loki.

“He didn't tell me,” Phil said. 

Hill looked suspiciously at them as Phil pushed the Tesseract box into the bed of the truck with Loki. She turned to leave, and as she was walking away the scratchy echo of a walkie-talkie was heard. “ _ Hill, do you copy?! _ ” Fury asked desperately.

Phil and Loki look sharply at her as she stopped. Phil’s slowly reached for his gun.

_ “Coulson is compr-!” _

She whirled around and Phil brought up his weapon, firing before she could shoot at him. She dove behind some metal boxes and Phil rushed to the drivers side, climbing in and stepping on it.

_ “He's got the Tesseract! Track it down!” _

Well, it’s been awhile since Phil was in a car chase. He hoped he wasn’t rusty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *DRAMATIC MUSIC*


	43. Fury POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry, i was busy, anyway here!

Fury rubbed his chest, thinking about how Phil could have killed him but didn’t. Clearly, the mind control only went so far. Maybe Phil would try to sabotage something else, but he didn’t have much hope. Fury was facing several large monitors depicting the shadowy figures of the World Security Council, really hoping he could convince them of this crazy idea.

_ “This is out of line, Director. You're dealing with forces you can't control.” _

“Actually, I think this will work better than you think. The Avengers clearly want to work against corruption and I’m sure they can win this war.”

_ “You saying that this... Asgard has declared war on our planet?” _ someone asked.

Fury sighed. “Not Asgard. Loki.”

_ “He can't be working alone. What about the other one? His brother.” _

“Our intelligence said Thor isn't a hostile. But he's worlds away, we can't depend on him to help. It's up to us,” Fury added.

_ “Which is why you should be focusing on Phase Two, it was designed for exactly-” _

“PHASE 2 isn't ready, our enemy is. We need a response team.”

_ “I don’t believe a vigilante group can be trusted with the safety of this planet,” _ someone said pointedly.

_ “We're running the world's greatest security network and you want to leave the fate of human race to a handful of freaks,” _ another sneered.

Fury could practically hear the real Phil grabbing a grenade launcher and storming toward this room, he swears it. That bastard is more defensive of those adopted kids then most parents are of their own kids.  “I'm not leaving anything to anyone,” he protested. “We need to respond to this situation, and Phase Two isn't ready. **”**

_ “Yeah, and how are you going to contact the Avengers?” _ someone challenged.

“Well, Coulson might have some clues in his office or apartment. He was the leading investigator,” he pointed out. “And the Avengers like Coulson. You all heard about the time they rushed the man to the hospital. They’d want to help him get over this brainwashing thing. Get him back on out side. That team could very well save the plant.”

The council members considered and someone answered finally.  _ “If you can’t get ahold of the Avengers in ten hours, we will give the go for Phase Two, to prepare.” _

“That’s all I ask,” Fury agreed, and watched as the monitors shut off.

Fury whirled around and stormed to the door. “Hill! Pull up footage of Coulson leaving last monday. Find out where he went and text me the adress, I’m checking Coulson's apartment.”

“Yes, sir!”

 

* * *

 

Fury had to kick down Phil’s door, as the man had never given him a key and it had six locks total, but found the inside was surprisingly bare. The fridge was empty except for a jug of water, the apartment clean, and not a single dish was in the sink. 

In retrospect, it wasn’t surprising, but it still made Fury nervous.

He rummaged through the living room, looking for anything Phil might have hidden, and them went to Phil’s home office. On the desk was a half empty cold cup of coffee and not much else. Everything was locked, but Nick brought a hammer and a crowbar for a reason.  He bust open the first drawer and found a bunch of old well worn reports. All of those missions had gone tits up, so as one of the assisting trainers, it made sense that Coulson read over them to find any lessons that could be learned from them. In the next was unfilled reports and other miscellaneous but commonly used submission forms.

In the third was mostly office supplies. Folders, stapler, pens and such. In the fourth was personal items and Fury found himself rooting through it and putting all of it on the desk.  A personal file with all his missions, start and end, scribbled ideas and notes, a gun shaped stress toy, and a locked journal. Fury broke the last open and started flipping through pages, finding notes on missions, things that might be needed and again, nothing of use. He flipped to the back.

_ Present ideas for Natasha- gun, knives, ballet shoes? Sword- in red. _

“Finally, jesus fuck,” Fury grumpily, going back a bit.

_ Matt Murdock- (faked kidnapping, clever kids) (Daredevil) Visually impaired. _ _   
_ _ Clint Barton- (Hawkeye, grew up in circus.) _ _   
_ _ Natasha Romanov- (Red Room= Black Widows? - look into) _ _   
_ _ Steve Rogers- Captain. America, medically unsound. Asthma, anemia, etc. _ _   
_ _ Sam Wilson- Falcon. _ _   
_ _ James Rhodes- War Machine. Early MIT graduate with Tony Stark. AKA Rhodey. _ _   
_ _ Bruce Banner (?)- Hulk. Experimented on by AIM. _ _   
_ _ James Barnes- Winter Soldier. Faked suicide, video surveillance from fast food joint shows no splash from body falling + what might be a signal. AKA ‘Bucky’.  _ _   
_ __ Tony Stark- likely funds everything too. Run away same day as Matt kidnapped. Iron Man.

“Well, I’ve got some full names,” Fury said to himself. “And what the fuck, Tony  _ Stark _ ? And how didn’t I know that ‘Bucky’ was James Barnes?”

_ Faked captivity report to Council _ _ \- remember, could be used against me. Details on phone, camera roll. _

“Ah, shit Phil.” Fury rubbed his face. That could get his right hand man in a lot of trouble. More, if they find out he’s adopted the little fuckers.

**_Daredevil_ ** _ \- enhanced senses from chemicals that blinded him. Can hear heartbeats any where in a building. No light perception. Type of sonar.  _ _   
_ **_Hawkeye_ ** _ \- amazing eyesight, 80% hearing loss. Never misses target, can use guns or bow. _ _   
_ **_Black Widow_ ** _ \- extensive hand to hand, trained with almost every combat weapon. Trained assassin. Red Room- Black Widows. _ _   
_ **_Captain America_ ** _ \- being taught by Black Widow, indestructible shield. Battle strategist. New addition, super strength, speed, all ailments healed. (Red Skull) _ _   
_ **_Falcon_ ** _ \- Wing pack. Arialest. Trained with guns, rusty hand to hand. (Redwing might become companion if Tony actually installs an AI on it. 12-25-16) _ _   
_ **_War Machine_ ** _ \- Weaponized suit of armor that flies. Also- bodysuit is resistant material. Intelligence. _ _   
_ **_Hulk_ ** _ \- Unsure. AIM experimentation. Something to do with his DID. Also, heartrate activates whatever it is.  _ _ DO NOT GET BRUCE ANGRY. _ _   
_ **_Winter Soldier_ ** _ \- Trained assassin. Metal arm. New addition- super strength and speed. _ _   
_ **_Iron Man_ ** __ \- See War Machine. Enhanced intelligence.

“That’s helpful,” Fury mumbled, flipping the page.

This one just had a carefully sketched picture of Phil cooking in an unfamiliar kitchen. Phil wasn’t particularly artsy, so Fury frowned. At the bottom of the page there was a tiny scribble -SR.

“Captain America is an artist, how about that.”

Fury’s phone buzzed and he checked the messages, seeing an address from Hill. It pinged again.  _ ‘Key is in the doorbell, we think.’ _

Fury texted back.  _ ‘I’m on my way.’ _

 

* * *

 

True to Hill’s word, the doorbell swung open to hide a little key. He unlocked the door, replaced the key, and pushed inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

The house itself was empty and had no facilities, but it did had a closet door that had a ladder down into a long hall. A few scooters and a skate board was laying on the hallway floor, as well as a pair of skates. The hall had a long smooth floor and a few obstacles set up so it made some semblance of sense.

Fury jogged down it, stepping over the small ramp and side stepping the metal box in the direct middle of the hall.

On the second door was a note with Phil’s handwriting.

_ ‘Please put away your toys when you’re done, I don’t want anyone to trip.’ _

It also had braille on the lower half. Fury pushed the door open and climbed up another ladder, climbing out of yet another closet.

Stark Mansion. That’s clever. Why didn’t Fury think of that? Tony Stark’s name was on that page, after all. Seeing the camera in the corner, he was glad he was wearing the cloaking device. He heard about JARVIS, of course, and that he controlled the house. He didn’t exactly want to be locked in a room until he starved to death, or whatever.

But he had no idea how to find the Avengers is a house as large as Stark Mansion. Howard Stark was a greedy bastard who liked his money and using it however he wanted.

Fury thought back to the conversations he had had with Phil about their habits.

_ “They usually sleep in the pool room like a pile of puppies,”  _ Phil had said in bemusement.  _ “And then they either go to the training room, library, or dining room mostly. _ ”

“Well, it’s lunchtime, so I should find a dining room,” Fury said to himself.

Second problem, he had no idea where that was. Wait, one of Phil’s new training exercises involved using the senses other than sight. Closing his eye, Fury stood, just listening.  It took a minute, but eventually he heard a quiet, “ _ Fight me! _ ” and a burst of laughter to his right. He weaved through the hallways, following the sounds.

“Order! Order in the court!” Someone banged on the table. “Avengers Court is now in session. Judge Murdock presiding. Please be seated.”

“We  _ are  _ seated.”

“That’s how it goes, just shut your face. Now, calling the case of Steve verses Tony. Are both sides ready?”

“Yep!”

“This is ridiculous. All I did was steal a bite of Tony’s pizza!”

“Thievery! He admits!”

“You ruined your case man, your have to go to Avenger jail,” someone new said.

“What?”

“It’s that box in the corner.”

“Oh my god, are you serious?”

“Go!”

Fury turned into the dining room, seating a skinny white boy climb into a box near the end of a long couch. The room reeked of pizza, and Fury wrinkled his nose.  Matt, who was standing on the table, looked over to him suddenly. Soon everyone was staring.

“Shit!” Tony Stark yelped, and fell off the back of the couch, flailing.

“Avengers,” he greeted. “I’ve got some news. Would you like to hear the bad news or the good news?”

The Black Widow was pointing a gun at him. “Good news,” she suggested.

“Is dad okay?” Sam Wilson asked worried.

“That’s the good news, actually,” Fury responded. “Coulson  _ isn’t _ dead.”

“The bad news?” Bruce Banner asked when nothing else was said.

“He’s been captured and brainwashed by a megalomaniac god who wants to take over earth.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“Oh shit,” Clint Barton said.

“That’s about my reaction,” Fury agreed. “The World Security Council agreed to have you on the mission to try to save the planet, and hey, you stop Loki, you get Phil back, hopefully.”

“We’re in,” Steve said, climbing out of the box. “Everyone, suit up.”

And everybody beat a hasty retreat. Even though Fury knew that Murdock was able to use a type of sonar, it was still off-putting to see the blind boy run like the devil and neatly dodge obstacles. 

In less than three minutes, someone came back for him, leading Fury through the halls and to a spacious lab full of parts.

“Get in the car,” Black Widow advised. “Take the passenger, so we aren’t squished together like sardines.”

Fury was interested in the car, of course, but this was an urgent mission and he’d rather just get in the car than ask any questions. Sliding in, he watched as the rest of them got buckled up and as Stark started up the vehicle.

“Everybody brought live rounds, right?” Stark asked, before they took off.

“If we didn’t, I still got the box with the extra rounds,” Barnes offered. “And knives.”

“Good enough, let’s get this show on the road!”


	44. Assembling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> back! sorry for the break, i've been busy working on Temerity. anyway, here!

“JARVIS, find me the Helicarrier,” Stark said, just as they leveled out.

“One moment, sir.”

Fury watched as a loading screen appeared on the front window.

“Connected,” JARVIS said, and a bright blue display depicted a current path for the SUV and where the Helicarrier was in relation. Stark swerved to head directly toward it and put the pedal to the medal, the slight g-force shoving Fury back in his seat slightly.

Cityscape blurred around them, and Fury watched in amazement as skyscrapers zoomed by. This was insane. If this technology would be used on the Helicarrier, it would make worlds of difference. Behind him, he can hear the teenagers passing around guns and snapping live rounds in them.

_ “They’re good goddamn kids,” _ Coulson's voice said in his mind, defensively.

Fury internally scoffed.  _ These kids have fun beating up trainees on your word Coulson, shut the hell up,  _ he thought.

By the time the Helicarrier came into view, the kids are arguing about plans and Stark has hacked the report of the incident, including the video. He can tell that the teenagers are upset that he didn’t do anything, just sat there like a fish and tried to grab the case instead of get Coulson back, but they don’t say anything directly to him.

They just glare and say passive aggressive things combined with sarcastic comments.

“You brought your sword?” Hawkeye asked.

“I know how to use it, and it’ll be helpful, I know it,” Black Widow said, putting it in its sheath.

_ “This is Helicarrier 1 contacting unidentified craft, please identify yourself, over.” _ It sounded like Maria, actually.

Stark shoved in his retainer/voice modifier in his mouth and grabbed the radio. “This is the Avengers requesting permission to land. Over.”

_ “Avengers, this is Helicarrier 1 you do not have clearance to land, please hold. Over.” _

Stark looked over at Fury pointedly. Fury huffed and grabbed the radio from him. “Goddammit, Hill, I’m in here too, let us land,” he said.

“ _ Sir?! _ ”

“It’s Director Fury, I found the Avengers and they gave me a ride. They have clearance to land on grounds that I’m stuck in a flying SUV with them,” he said.

_ “One moment.” _ A few seconds passed.  _ “Avengers, you are clear to land. A guide will show you where you can… park. Over.” _

“Thanks,” Stark said, and swung around.

“There he is,” Hawkeye said, pointing to the tiny figure with bright neon red guiding lights. Following the guides instructions, the SUV was soon parked and safely tucked away from the path of landing or leaving jets.

As soon as they touched down, Fury stepped out, nodding to the agent and watching the Avengers climb out, weapons strapped to their backs or hips and looking just as dangerous as they’ve ever been.

“Let’s go in and get you briefed officially,” Fury said. “I need to check in with the Council too.”

 

* * *

 

Once Fury checked in with the Council, making sure Phase Two was on hold while they tried this out, he found himself back in the bridge, the Avengers were already seated and looking through the papers Maria had given them. 

“Avengers,” he greeted again.

Captain America passed five bucks to Iron Man, who shoved it in his pocket. 

“Thank you for coming,” Fury finished dryly. “As you can see, our focus is the Tesseract, once we get that back, we’re in the clear.”

“But what about the brainwashed agents?” Daredevil asked.

“We don’t know how to handle them or snap them out of it. We’re hoping non-lethal injury in order to capture, but the council doesn’t seem to care either way.”

Hulk and Iron Man looked at the papers. “We can find the Tesseract with a tracking algorithm based on cluster recognition. How have you been trying to find the Tesseract?

“We're sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet. Cellphones, laptops. If it's connected to a satellite, it's eyes and ears for us,” Hill said.

Hulk waved his hand. “You have to narrow the field. How many spectrometers do you have access to?”

“How many are there?” Fury said, pointedly.

“Call the labs you know, tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays. I can rough out a tracking algorithm. Do you have somewhere for us to work?”

Fury nodded at Hill.

“Show them to the lab, please.”

 

* * *

 

Selvig and several scientists work around a device, Coulson supervising and tapping at a tablet. The Tesseract was beautiful and showed him it’s vision of the future, where everyone was under peaceful rule. And all he needed to do was his part.

“Is this what you need?” Phil asked, showing the element on screen.

“Yeah, iridium. It's found in meteorites. It forms antiprotons. It's very hard to get hold of,” Selvig responded, pointedly.

“It’s possible,” Phil countered. “But it might be difficult if SHEILD knows we need it.”

Selvig laughed. “Well, I didn't know!” Phil and he turn to see Loki and Selvig smiled. “Hey! The Tesseract is showing me so much. It's more than just knowledge, it's... truth.”

Loki smiled indulgently. “I know. What did it show you, Agent Coulson?”

Phil flipped through the files. “My mission.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“I’ll need a distraction,” he said. “And a scan of the target’s eyeball. I prefer him alive.”

 

* * *

 

“We got a hit,” Sitwell reported. “Sixty-seven percent match. Wait, crossmatch, seventy- nine percent.”

“Location?” Fury asked, as the Avengers looked over. The screen showed Loki looking around, lightly amused and dressed in a casual suit.

“Stuttgart, Germany. 28, Konigstrasse. He's not exactly hiding,” Sitwell admitted.

“That’s our cue,” Captain America said. “Falcon, Soldier, Widow, with me. We’ll grab Iron Man on our way.”

 

* * *

 

“We don’t really need to kill them,” Phil pointed out, snapping rounds of tranquilizers into his sniper rifle. “We just need to make sure they don’t get in the way. My kids would be furious if I killed someone for this.”

Loki gave him a look, checking in with Phil before they start. “You have children?”

“Yeah, nine of them.”

At Loki’s surprised look he pulled his wallet out of his pocket, showing a small picture of the kids during christmas. It was the one they sent to his mom, so there weren’t any weapons or what not out. “They’re adopted. My good goddamn kids.” He smiled, putting it back in his pocket. “I wonder if I’ll see them later, when the world’s under your rule.”

“It seems likely,” Loki said at last, and vanishes.

Phil takes aim.

 

* * *

 

The Avengers arrive about fifteen minutes after Loki, finding him in the middle of walking through a kneeling crowd.

_ “Is not this simpler?” _ Loki said, JARVIS helpfully zooming in and accessing cameras around the area to hear what was said.

“Sam, go out the back and give our guy a shove,” Steve ordered. “Tony hang out as backup. Bucky and I will confront him head on. Nat, you’re on flight. Get the turrets out and ready, just in case.”

“On it.”

_ “-bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.” _

An elderly man starts to get up.

“Ah, shit, civilian making a target of himself. We’re going to need to drop.” Steve said, as the SUV went faster.

_ “Not to men like you,” _ the old man said.

Loki laughed,  _ “There are no men like me.” _

The elderly man shakes his head.  _ “There are always men like you.” _

Loki scoffed, and looked around, the Avengers just about on top of them. From this distance, they can hear both the speakers, and the man himself. “Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example.”

“Here we go!” Steve said, jumping out the back, shield to his side. As soon as he touched the ground a blue beam of energy slammed into the shield and ricocheted to bounce back into Loki.

“How’s that for an example?” Captain America asked.

“Captain America,” Loki sneered. “Your time has just about run out,” he launched himself to his feet and aimed his scepter.

“Dunno, I think out of the two of us, I’ve still got a while longer than you.”

The flying SUV appeared above them, low enough to be intimidating. The gatling guns dropped and over the speaker is heard, “Drop the scepter and  _ stand down _ .”

Loki sent the blast up at the car and Natasha jerks it out of the way. The civilians scream and start rushing away. Steve throws his shield at Loki with the opening and it he shield bounces back. Steve spins, catching it before rushing at Loki, fists flying as the pair fight.

The bad news is that Loki has hundreds of years of experience and Steve has about one. Even with super strength, he’s being forced back. Bucky takes this as his cue and drops from the car, slamming his metal fist into Loki’s stomach before being shoved away.

With Bucky skidding along the concrete, Steve moved to get up, only to have the butt of a staff put against his head.

“Kneel,” Loki growls.

“Hey, white dude!” Sam called from the air, diving at Loki, flipping in midair as he retracts his wings and speeding like a bullet feet first. Loki turns just in time to have the full force of the kick sent into his chest, sends Loki sprawling while it launches Sam into a neat flip, landing on his feet and stumbling to regain his balance.

“Three against one is hardly fair, isn’t it?” Loki asked from the ground with a grin, his shape shimmering. Soon four Loki’s stand around, grinning like megalomaniacs.

“Fuck, which one’s real?” Sam hissed. “I did  _ not _ sign up for this magic bullshit.”

“I got ‘im!” Tony said in their ears. They watch as Tony rounds a building, slamming into the Loki closest to Sam.  It knocks Loki back into the steps and Tony lands with a skid, hands coming up as small missiles appear on his shoulder and arms. The other Loki's vanish.

“Your move, Reindeer Games.”

Loki puts up his hands in surrender and his armor materializes away.

“Good move,” Tony said approvingly, letting the missiles go back into his armor.

 

* * *

 

_ “He said anything?” _ Fury asked over the radio.

“Nope,” Natasha said.

_ “Just get him here fast. We're low on time.” _

They’ve put most of the seats down, except the one Loki was in near the door, and locked him up in the cuffs Fury supplied.

“I don't like it,” Steve said, sitting in between Sam and Tony, leaning against the trunk door.

“What? Rock of Ages giving up so easily?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “It’s never that easy. This guy packs a wallop. Remember Skull? He could punch through a concrete wall and he got away. This guy’s stronger and look where he is now.”

Sam and Tony exchanged a glance. “Okay, point.”

Thunder and lightning nearly hit the vehicle, making it shake and shudder.

“The fuck’s this coming from?” Steve asked, looking out the window. He glances at Loki, who was staring out the into the storm intently.

“Wha's th’ matter, dude? Scared of lightning?” Sam asked.

“I’m not overly found of what follows,” Loki replied.

Something heavy hit the roof and Natasha curses in Russian, struggling to maintain balance on such a tiny aircraft. Something moved above them and a weight pulled the craft to the right; the side where Loki was sitting. Someone pulled the door open.

“Why didn’t you lock the doors?!” Sam yelled, as a man ripped Loki out of his seat and used a spinning hammer to fly away.

“Why would it be relevant? We’s just under cruising altitude!” She shouted back.

“Was he an Asgardian?” Bucky asked turning to look from the passenger seat.

“I think the more important question is ‘is he a friendly?’ ” Steve poked his head out the still open door, watching the pair vanish into the clouds and into the the forest below.

“Doesn't matter. If he frees Loki or kills him, then we won’t get  _ babbo  _ back,” Tony turned and got ready to jump off the jet to chase after the men.

“Natasha, get us down there!” Steve ordered.

“I’m working on it, don’t make me turn this thing around! I have to make sure I don’t crash into any trees and kill us all!”

Steve growled and opened the side panel, grabbing one of three parachutes there. “I’ve got to back up Iron Man, find us when you can.”

 

* * *

 

Tony stood up, watching the other man stumble to his feet, shaking the hammer at him. **“** Do not touch me again!” he warned.

Tony pointed to the cliff where the guy had been talking to Loki, putting a hand on his hip. “Then don't take my stuff.”

“You have no idea what you're dealing with,” the buff guy growled.

“Uh,” Tony gestured loosely. “Shakespeare in the park? Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?” He gestured with one hand to Thor’s clothing.

“This is beyond you, metal man. Loki will face Asgardian justice!”

“Okay, so he is Asgardian,” Tony muttered to himself. “Okay, listen, Hammer Time, he gives up the cube, he's all yours. But until then, he comes with us and you don’t get in the way. Okay? I do not have the time to deal with people who are of no use.”

Tony turned away to fly up and grab Loki again. “Weirdo.” And a heavy weight slammed into his armored back, sending him crashing forward into the dirt and old tree branches.

“Ow, fuck! You know what, if that’s how you’re going to play-” Tony growled.

The asshole raised his hand and the stupid fucking hammer flew back to it. With that occupying his focus, Tony quickly turned, putting both hands up and blasting the smug ass blond through a tree. 

The man furiously pulled himself up, raising his hammer to the stormy sky. A bolt of lightning struck it and Tony had just the right amount of time to think ‘oh, shit’ before he was struck, the lightning making everything shine white.

_ “Sir, power is at 400% capacity,” _ JARVIS said, when the HUB dimmed down.

“Uh, cool!”

And with that, Tony sent a unibeam straight to the adults face. And that, of course, started a fight and Tony ended up mostly flailing around and trying to hit the Asgardian with trees. 

Lucky, just when Tony was really starting to feel beat, Steve jumped in and threw his shield, bouncing it off the Asgardians chest.

“Hey! Cut it out!” Steve jumped off the tree and landed light on his feet.

“He started it!’ Tony exclaimed, pointing.

“Yeah? Well, I’m finishin’ it,” Steve said, jerking a thumb at himself. “Now listen pal, I dunno what the hell you think you’re doin’, but we’ve got a handle on things here.”

“I've come here to put an end to Loki's schemes!”

“Yeah, then put the goddamn hammer down, huh?”

“I called him Hammer Time  _ for a reason _ , Cap,” Tony said snarkily and that’s when the asgardian back hands him into more bushes.

“You want me to put the hammer down?” the man yells, and launches himself at Steve. The millisecond the hammer touches Steve’s shield, a loud bang sent Tony back yet again.

When Tony scrambles to his feet again, Steve’s still standing, and the thunder guy looked fine too. “What the flying fuck?”

“So are we done here?” Steve asked.

The Asgardian looked like he was trying not to be embarrassed.

“You fucking idiots!” Natasha shouted furiously, leaning out the window as the SUV finally lands, the only clear spot; the area they cleared with the blast. “Are you fucking done with your dick measuring contest? We’ve got shit to do! Get in the goddamn SUV!

“You crazy white sons of bitches!” Sam said, poking his head out the window to look around. “Y’all responsible for like, one eighth of all deforestation in the world right about now.”

Bucky put his arm out the window. “Cap, I got something for ya,” he called, putting up his middle finger.

“Maybe later,” Steve retorted, then turning to the asgardian. “Listen, go grab your guy. You can come with us.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m regretting this,” Tony said, as he watched Thor and Loki sit squished in the back of the SUV. Thor takes up about 100 percent of the room back there.

“This car wasn’t made for overly muscular people,” Tony said. 

Thor frowned.

“No hard feelings, Point Break, you’ve got a mean swing.”


	45. Back on the Helicarrier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> got this nonsense done, angst in the future! (ppl will be fine tho, don't worry.

After Loki is led to what Tony called a ‘super-cell’ Thor explained to the group of Avengers as well as Fury and Hill. “He has an army called the Chitauri. They're not of Asgard or any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the earth. In return, I suspect, for the Tesseract.”

“An army. From outer space.” Steve looked to Bucky. “Aliens.”

“He has to make another portal for that,” Bruce said. “That must be what he needs Erik Selvig for.”

Thor looked over. “Selvig?”

“He's an astrophysicist, I’ve read some of his papers.”

Thor clarifies. “He's a friend.”

“Loki has him under some kind of spell, along with one of our own,” Fury put in.

“I still wanna know why Loki let us take him. It was too easy, considering what both he and Thor can do. Other than that, if he’s leading an army, he certainly can’t do anything from that cell,” Steve said.

“That guy’s crazy, who knows what he’s thinking. I think we should focus on tracking the Tesseract," Bruce dismissed.

“Have care how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he's my brother.”

“He killed forty people in two days,” Natasha said.

Thor hesitated and then said, “He's adopted.”

“Okay, I have two problems with that statement,” Tony said, gesturing to the people around the table. “Every single one of us is adopted. None of us had tried for world domination or killed anybody. So… what the fuck? And two, you literally just distanced yourself from him. You can’t say he’s your brother and then says he’s not really your brother. That makes no sense. It’s like declaiming him. You destroyed your own defense.”

“Self-burn,” Rhodey said. “Those are rare.” He and Tony high-fived, metal clinking with metal.

“Kudos for subtle law joke,” Matt added.

“Anyway, iridium, what did they need the iridium for?” Bruce asked.

“It's used as a stabilizing agent. If Loki uses it how I think he’s using it, it means the portal won't collapse on itself like it did at SHIELD. Because it won’t collapse, it means the portal can open as wide, and stay open as long, as Loki wants,” Tony guessed.

“That man is playing Galaga!” Bucky said suddenly, pointing.

“He is!” Tony laughed. “Thought we wouldn't notice. But we did.”

Bruce probably rolled his eyes. “The rest of the raw materials, da- Agent Coulson can get his hands on relatively easily. Only major component he still needs is a high energy density power source, something to start up the cube,” Bruce said.

“When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?” Hill asked, staring at them.

“On the ride over,” Bruce and Tony said, then looking at each other. 

“The packet, Selvig's notes, the Extraction Theory papers?” Tony furthered. “I mean, Selvig is a good writer. It’s not hard.”

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?” Clint asked, fiddling with a couple of pens.

“He's got to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.”

“Unless Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect,” Tony pointed out.

Bruce thought about that. ”Well, if he could do that he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

“Finally, someone who speaks English.”

“Bitch, you did not,” Rhodey said.

“I think you two should go back to tracking the Tesseract,” Fury advised.

“We could use that scepter,” Bruce thought. “I bet the readings are pretty similar to the Tesseract. That might make it go quicker.”

“Other than that, I'd like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys," Fury added.

“Monkeys? I do not understand.” Thor said, confused.

“On that note, Hulk and I better follow the yellow brick road back to the lab. Ciao!” Tony said.

 

* * *

 

Tony and Bruce were laying on the ground, Tony’s holograms hanging above them like a ceiling of blue.

“You’re right, this is more comfortable,” Bruce admitted.

“Ha, toldja,” Tony said lazily.

“I mean, my arms get a little tired, but there’s no crick in my neck.”

“Exactly. See, this is what mechanics do all day. It’s why I can go for hours. I do heavy lifting too, but sometimes you fall asleep under a car, and then wake up to finish a job. Bam, never get tired.”

“That makes a weird amount of sense, except you just told me mechanics were lazy.”

Tony gasped, scandalized, and the two boys burst into laughter.

“Okay, okay, The gamma readings are definitely consistent with Selvig's papers on the Tesseract. But with this search rate, it’ll take weeks to process.”

“Here,” Tony offered. “If we bypass their mainframe and direct a reroute to the Homer cluster, we can clock this around... five hundred teraflops?”

“Six,” Bruce corrected, “Based on that math. Nice job.”

Steve stepped into the room and looked down at them. “Is it laying on the floor time?” he asked, crouching down and fitting shoulder to shoulder between Bruce and Tony.

“I think Fury, or the Council, is hiding something,” Tony said. “I hacked their systems and there are a bunch of void files.”

“You think Fury's hiding something?”

“Yeah, he's a spy. I mean, dad is kind of a spy too, but he’s more like a paperwork spy. Fury, however, well, his secrets have secrets. And that’s not even scratching the Council.”

“I could check it out,” Steve offered.

“I mean, you don’t have to,” Tony said. “It’d just be nice to know.”

“Eh, might as well, I’m not doing anything,” Steve shrugged. “I’ll get Winter to come too. He’s bored.”

“Oh, really? What’s he up to?”

“He’s trying to beat the Galaga guy’s high score.”

Tony laughed and Bruce started snickering. Natasha stepped in, learning through the doorway. “Hey, I’m going to try to manipulate Loki into telling us where papa is.”

“Do you…” Steve floundered. “Need backup?”

“Nah,” she said. “I just thought I should warn you all. I’m going to pretend to be the devastated daughter of Phil Coulson. See what I can do.”

“Kudos to you,” Tony said. “Try to insult his dick size at least once.”

Natasha leveled him a blank look through her mask. “You’re the worst.”

Tony shrugged. “Then have Hawkeye hang out in the vents.”

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed.

“Hey, does anybody know what Daredevil is doing?”

“He’s raiding some kitchens or something,” Natasha said. “Said he was hungry. And Falcon and War Machine went flying around or they’re chilling in the van with stolen sodas, I’m not sure.”

“And they didn’t invite me,” Tony said in mock disappointment.

“You don’t get invited to all the parties, rich boy,” she teases and vanishes.

“You wanna watch?” Tony asked Bruce and Steve.

“Nah, I’ll go look around,” Steve said, sitting up. “If anything important happened, call me.” He left after stretching quickly.

Tony flicked up the video feed to the middle of the screen so he and Bruce could still work around the sides. After a few minutes of nothingness, just Loki standing around like a weirdo Bruce asked, “What do you think he thinking about?” 

“ _‘Muhahah, evil, evil, evil, world-conquering, daddy issues?’_ “ Tony suggested.

“That was disturbing,” Bruce commented.

“Well, what else does an insane mastermind think of? Hey, look, it’s Widow.”

She rushed in, wearing regular shield issue clothing. She slammed the door closed behind her and stood against it for a minute. Then she slid to her knees, shoulders shaking with sobs.

“She would be a really amazing actor,” Bruce said. “Maybe she’ll do that when we all start getting jobs.”

“Hey, yeah. That would be an amazing cover too!” Tony said enthusiastically. “And since I’ll be CEO of SI, we might see each other at charity things or whatever!”

Natasha’s arrival had caught Loki’s attention and he was silently observing. Natasha slid to the floor slowly, sitting down with her head resting on her knees as she shook with tears.

_“What ails you, child?”_ Loki finally asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

Natasha startled, gasping and pressing herself up against the door in fright. _“Who the heck are you?”_ she asked, panicked voice thick and rough from crying.

Tony turned to Bruce. “Heck.”

_“I might be persuaded to answer if you tell me your name first,”_ Loki said casually.

_“N-Natalie. Natalie Coulson,”_ she answered. _“I’m not supposed to be here. I just wanted to get away from all the agents for a minute.”_

_“You are Agent Coulson’s daughter then?”_ Loki asked, now in interest.

_ “You… you know my dad?” _

_“Of course,”_ Loki said with a grin. _“He’s one of my best assistants.”_

_“Who are you?”_ Natasha repeated. Standing up and walking forward cautiously.

_“I am Loki, of Asgard,”_ he replied.

_“Wait, you’re the man who kidnapped my dad!”_ She said in realization, a mix of complex emotions crossing her face.

_“Not so,”_ Loki denied neatly. _“I simply relieved him of the burdens of freedom. He chose to come with me on his own violation.”_

_“That has to be a lie,”_ Natasha claimed desperately. _“He wouldn’t leave us just because of something like that.”_

_“Oh, all your brothers and you? In fact, he wanted you all to join him,”_ Loki pressed. _“He misses you all so. You could join me and see him again,” Loki said slyly. “All you have to do is let me out.”_

Natasha looked torn, glancing at the release mechanism thinking. _“I don’t know,”_ Natasha said, nervously after a second. _“You're trying to take over the planet. And You’ve- you’ve killed people. Dad would never agree with that. You’re lying! You brainwashed my dad! You’re a monster!”_

Loki slammed on the glass, startling a shriek from Natasha.

_“If I’m a monster,”_ Loki spat. _“So be it. I’ll enjoy watching your father kill you on my orders. Slowly, painfully, while you beg and plead for him to stop. I’ll wake him up just long enough to see your lifeless body and when he screams I’ll split his skull!”_

_“You’re insane!”_ Natasha said, backing away out of fear.

_ “Oh? Am I? I am the stuff of nightmares, child, and I’ll prove it when your father gets here.” _

Natasha’s hunched frightened posture straightened and wiped tears off her face with the backside of her thumb. _“Thanks for the intel,”_ she said with a grin to Loki’s surprised face. “For the god of lies, you sure as hell can’t keep a secret.”

_“Fuckin’ owned!”_ Clint called from the vent.

_“You’re a_ doof _,”_ Natasha said, _“Go on I’ll sure Fury knows what’s up.”_

_“Fine,”_ he said. _“Matt? What are you doing here?”_

_ “I was listening, duh. I heard you through the vents.” _

_ “Move.” _

_ “I am moving.” _

Natasha looked back at Loki. _“Little tip about the Coulson kids; we’re not to be underestimated.”_   Then she made little horns with her fingers and blew a raspberry, rushing from the room.  Loki punched the glass barrier with a growl of frustration.

“Widow is my favorite,” Bruce said. 

Tony gasped. “Science bro.”

“Nope. You’re replaced!”

Tony whined and rolled over so he was half draped across a laughing Bruce. “Don’t leeeeaaavvee meeee!”

Bruce pushed Tony off of himself and stood up, stepping over to the scepter and waving the scanning wand over it. “You were right about bypassing the mainframe,” Bruce said. “These readings are amazing. Very clear.”

“I’m guessing we’ll get readings in about eight to ten minutes,” Tony said, looking at the screens and readouts as he stood and stretched.

“That’s good,” Bruce agreed. “The sooner we stop Loki, the sooner we get dad back.”

“Bingo, bango, boom,” Tony agreed.

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose when Tony grinned in delight. “I thought we told you to stop with that gangster accent.”

“I like to pretend I’m an Italian mobster in my spare time,” Tony said flippantly. _“Un mafioso. L'uomo di_ ferro _.”_

“I might not know much Italian, but I picked up a bit of Hindi in India.”

_ “Tutto il potere a voi.” _

_ “Main maan raha hoon ki ek taareeph tha.” _

“First and second languages for the win,” Tony said, putting his fist out. Bruce tapped it and that was the very beginning of where everything went to hell.

Steve, Bucky, Fury, and Thor all came in at the same time and suddenly the room started feeling a whole lot smaller.  Bucky and Steve froze, big silvery weapons in hand. Steve pointed accusingly. “SHIELD is using the tesseract to make weapons!”

“You broke into a high-security storage locker?!” Fury said loudly, angrily. “Those area’s are off limits!”

“Weapons of mass destruction!” Bucky accused. “For a peacekeeping organization, you sure are interested in warfare. I wanna know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build WMDs!”

“I didn’t want to,” Fury said gruffly. “The Council did.”

“But why?” Tony asked, now curious. 

Fury floundered and then pointed at Thor. “Because of him.”

“Me?” Thor asked, stunned.

Fury explained. “Last year earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned.”

“My people want nothing but peace with your planet,” Thor argued.

“Oh, but you're not the only people out there, are you? And, you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched, they can't be controlled.”

“You wanna control people?” Steve asked, anger and disgust in his voice.

Thor cut in. “Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies. It is the signal to all the realms that the earth is ready for a higher form of war.”

“What the fuck is a higher form of war?” Bucky asked.

“You forced our hand,” Fury said to Thor. “We had to come up with something.”

“Great idea! Nuclear deterrents always calm everything right down,” Tony snarked, looking over the weapons Bucky and Steve were holding.

“Stop it,” Bruce said desperately, covering his ears. “Stop arguing.”

Tony grabbed Bruce's wrist, looking at the heart rate monitor. It’s starting to beat faster. “Ah, hell. Hey, buddy, do you need anything?”  Bruce closed his eyes and shook his head.

“SHIELD monitors potential threats,” Fury was explaining.

“Are we on that threat list?” Bucky asked quietly.

Fury hesitated.

“Do you always give your champions such mistrust?” Thor asked, realizing what that silence meant.

“They aren’t my champions, they’re Coulson's if anything. The Council didn’t even want them here,” Fury snapped.

“The Son of Coul? The other man who was taken?”

 

* * *

 

_ “What is your cargo? Over.” _

_ “Arms and ammunition, over.” _

_ Phil looked out the open cargo door, failing to see a small SUV parked on the helicarrier as he loaded up the grenade launcher. _

 

* * *

 

“You speak of control, yet you court chaos,” Thor accused Fury.

“It's his M.O., isn't it? Us and SHIELD? We're a time-bomb like this. The only person we could trust was d- Coulson and now he’s brainwashed by Loki!” Bruce suddenly snapped at Fury, the beeping from the monitor growing louder. “Because you couldn’t protect him! You were right there!”

The gathered Avengers takes a step back, except for Tony. “Buddy, you need to calm down,” he said urgently.  The monitor went beep beep beep beep beep.  Bruce physically pushed Tony away, a hell of a lot stronger than he usually is.

“You people are so petty... and tiny,” Thor said in amusement, and Hulks gaze shot toward him. Tony had almost forgotten they were all in their uniforms and sounded just like adult men and women to everybody who didn’t know. Thor probably did see them as tiny adults, and for whatever reason, that pissed Bruce off.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re calling petty!?” Bruce snarls. “Petty is getting back at someone for something trivial. Petty sure as hell isn’t blaming someone for a pa- a friend getting kidnapped and brainwashed by a maniac!”

_ Bebebebebebebe! _

“I’ve told you once to have care about how you speak about my brother, I won’t tell you again,” Thor warned.

“He kidnapped my-!” 

“Bruce! Bruce! You need to calm down!” Tony said urgently, sliding between the two. Steve and Bucky on his side, attempting to hold Bruce back. Bruce shoved Tony to the side and walked forward again, dragging Steve and Bucky with him.  Fury seems to take somewhat of a hint and slowly drew back, Natasha grabbed his arm and whispered something urgently. His eyes widened and he reached for his walkie-talkie, barking out some orders.

Then the monitor beeped, displaying the general area the Tesseract was in.

It almost seemed like this distraction would let Bruce calm down but to no avail. Just when Bruce's pulse started slowing down, something blew up, busting the glass out and a fireball through the floor. Everyone was sent flying backward. Fury through the door, Hulk, Steve, Bucky and Thor through the broken floor. Natasha and Tony, being on the edge of the room, simply slammed into the wall. Bruce, being both angry and startled, sent the Hulk over the edge, green skin and all.

“Fuck!” Tony shouted, scrambling up to his feet and helping Natasha up as well. 

“We’re under attack!” Natasha said. “Loki said that papa would be with them!”

Tony crouched near the hole in the floor and looked down at the growing form of Bruce and Steve and Bucky, who were helping each other out of the rubble. Thor simply stood by, unsure.

“Winter, Cap! You deal with the Hulk, Widow and I are going to get the others to stop the attack and find babbo!”

“Go!” Steve said, waving him away as Hulk stood up, eight feet tall and fuming mad. The mask had cracked from the transformation and so had some of Bruce's uniform.

Nat pulled him away and shouted in the comms- “AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE!”


	46. Attack on the Helicarrier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yep, here's this. Next one might be a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for non-graphic amputation.
> 
> Spoilers/hint: It's a good thing Coulson is right handed.

The battle actually went pretty well from the beginning. The attackers had no idea that the Avengers were on board and had the thirty second warning Nat managed to give. The bad news was that some of the heaviest hitters were making sure Hulk didn’t kill Thor and they still hadn’t found Phil.  Matt and Clint were running around. Sam and Rhodey were working on getting the turbine online, doing what they could, and Tony and Natasha were still looking for the leader of the mission; their dad.

“He’ll be behind, coordinating,” Tony reasoned. “Maybe somewhere near where Loki was.”

She nodded and pointed down a darkened hall. “Shortcut,” she explained.

“Good idea,” Tony agreed and the pair ran down the track. 

Natasha suddenly skidded to a halt and put her hand out, stopping Tony.  “Get back,” she whispered, and Tony instinctively retreated into the shadows. He flicked off all the lights on the suit and landed, keeping quiet.

“Natasha?” The figure stepped out of the shadows, holding a large gun and looking vaguely surprised and delighted. It sent a shiver down Tony’s spine to see those nearly glowing blue eyes instead of their usual casual gray. “What are you doing here?” Agent Coulson asked. “It’s so good to see you. Sorry I haven’t called, I’ve been busy.”

"Stay back,” Natasha said warningly.

Coulson frowned. “Sweetheart?”

“Stay away from me,” she said, slowly putting a hand on her sword.

“What’s wrong?” Coulson asked, honestly concerned. 

“You’re brainwashed so I can’t trust you. Step away,” Natasha said.

“I’m not brainwashed, Natasha,” Coulson said with a slight smile like he was explaining to a child. “I’ve just been shown the  _ truth _ .”

“You’ve been shown lies and manipulation,” Natasha spat. “Just like I was in the Red Room. ‘ _ I’m one of 28 young ballerinas with the Red Room. The training is hard, but the victory of performance and the happiness of my parents more than makes up for it. _ ’ It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not. It’s a lie!”

Coulson’s face went cold and stony. “The Tesseract showed me the future. Worldwide peace. A world made free. My orders tell me to put a stop to any resistance. I don’t want to have to do this, kiddo.” He shifted his gun in hand, stance going from easy to threatening.

Natasha reacted, quickly pulling the sword out of its sheath and taking a stance. “Are you really bringing a gun to a knife fight?” she asked coolly.

Tony stayed back, but even he saw Phil’s eye color barely flicker as he looked at his gun and then back at Natasha. He dropped the weapon and pulled a blade from its sheath instead, quick as lightning. Then he lunged at her, knife flashing in the air.

Tony stood frozen as they went at each other, slashing when they could, punching and kicking and spitting curses. Natasha bites Coulson during the fight and Coulson manages to get a few good hit in as well, but he’s… holding back. 

Tony blinked in surprise, watching Coulson dodge away from a slash of Nat’s sword and block the upsweep with his knife, kicking out into Nat’s stomach. He grabbed the gun off the floor, his cold eyes glowing blue as he stood and aimed at her. Unfortunately, in the time it took him to grab it and stand, Natasha whirled and lashed out the instant she saw the gun, with red of the blade flashing through the air.

Agent Coulson made a choked pained noise as something fell off the side of the catwalk. He dropped to his knees, grabbing at his wrist. Natasha spun and her foot cracked against the side of his face, sending him spinning and slamming his head into the guardrails. Metal connected with his forehead and he slumped over.

“DID YOU JUST CUT OFF HIS HAND?!” Tony shouted.

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO IT JUST HAPPENED!” She shrieked, dropping to her hands and knees and crawling over, flipping Agent Coulson on his back and snatching the gushing wrist. “SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!”

“Tourniquet it!” Tony insisted. “USE HIS SHIRT!” She ripped off his sleeve into strips and started wrapping it around his wrist. Tony rushed over and started tying off the area above the injury.

After finishing their impromptu attempt at stopping the bleeding and succeeding, using Agent Coulson’s belt around the elbow as well as a few other things, they sat back and stared. “Oh my god, you cut off his hand,” Tony said, dazed. “Should we go... Go get it?”

“I am not looking for his fucking hand!” Natasha said. “Jesus christ! Oh my god, I cut off papa’s hand! He’s going to be so mad,” she moaned into her hands. “Oh my god, he’s going to be so mad. Oh, god, I'm so sorry."

“He- he hasn’t been mad before,” Tony said nervously. “You punched him in the face and broke his nose. Matt gave him a black eye.”

“THAT’S NOT THE SAME AS A WHOLE FUCKING HAND, TONY!”

“I KNOW!”

They continued staring at Coulson, who looked a little pale but perfectly at rest.

“Fuck?” Natasha pleaded.

“I don’t know,” Tony groaned.

“He’s fine, though. He’s not dead,” Natasha said rationally.

“I can make him a robot hand?” Tony suggested.

They stared some more. “We’re in shock. We need to get him to a doctor.”

“Yep.”

 

* * *

 

Tony brought a hand up to his ear. “Status report?” Tony asked through the comms in a daze as their dad was put on a stretcher and wheeled away.

_ “We got the turbine back and running,” _ Sam said.  _ “I dunno the fuck how, but War Machine knew what he was doing.” _

_ “Goddamn straight I did. I didn’t graduate MIT to not know how a flight based turbine works, even one as advanced as this.” _

_ “Daredevil says we’ve cleared out the last of the attackers,” _ Clint reported.

_ “Uh, Hulk managed to calm down after throwing Thor around for a bit. We convinced the Hulk to basically play blocks with storage containers? Thor went to check on the containment cell a while ago…”  _ Steve said.

“Well, not bad for a day’s work,” Tony said absently. _“_ We’ve got _babbo_ back.”

_ “Thank god,” _ Bucky said, blowing out a breath. 

“I mean. Mostly,” Tony corrected with a grimace.

_ “What?”  _ Matt asked.

“He’s less… handy,” Tony said lamely.

_ “Avengers,” _ Fury said over the speakers around the ship.  _ “Come to the bridge. We’ve got some new developments.” _

_ “What do you mean?”  _ Clint asked nervously.

“He’s down a fucking hand, okay?!” Tony snapped. “Sorry. Sorry, that was mean. He’s fine, but he’s … missing a hand.”

_ “Jesus christ, what happened?” _ Sam asked.

“It’s my fault,” Natasha groaned. “There was a  _ gun _ and I had my  _ sword _ and I reacted and-”

_“Oh, hell,”_ Rhodey cussed. _“But he’s okay, right?”_

“Yes, otherwise he’s fine.”

_ “Okay. Okay, one problem at a time,” _ Steve said reasonably. “ _ Hulk’s uniform is toast. What are we going to do?” _

“Put him in the closest thing to a mask as you can,” Tony said. “And we’ll see what happens. Also, just have him sign everything. The Hulk either swallowed the voice modifier or spit it out. Oh, and give him a blanket. And find something with a lot of sugar on the way. Get his energy back up. Also water. A lot of water. He dehydrates like wringing out a sponge when he transforms.”

_ “I’m on it,” _ Bucky said. “ _ Got visuals on the lunch room. _ ”

 

* * *

 

Fury stared at the nine ruffled teenagers sitting at the table. “That could have gone better,” he said in a slight daze.

Bruce coughed awkwardly, a blanket wrapped around him and partially cracked mask on his face. The teens exchanged glances. Most of them looked pretty beat up. Tony and Nat had blood on their costumes, Steve was covered in what looked like ash, Bucky’s arm was twitching a bit, and Matt had blood dripping from his fists. Rhodey looked a little beat up and Sam coughed periodically, a half empty bottle of water in front of him.

“Okay, yeah,” Tony admitted. “But it was a shit show from the beginning, so it also could have been much worse.”

Fury stared at him and then rubbed his face. ”Okay, I’ll give you that. Jesus Christ. At least you got Coulson back. Most of him.”

Natasha groaned in guilt and smacked her head on the table. “ _ I’m sorry. _ ” Tony rubbed her back soothingly.

“Thor got dropped by Loki. They took out our communications, and we have no idea where the Tesseract is. We’re dead up in the air.” Fury shrugged. “If you’ve got anything, now is the perfect time to say so.”

“I punched Loki,” Matt said. “But he didn’t tell me where he was going.”

“We got a location before the explosion,” Tony said. “It was in Manhattan.”

“Can you narrow that down?” Fury asked sounding defeated.

“Well, he still needs the power source,” Tony said.

“And he’s a showman,” Matt said. “He was showing off when he dropped Thor. All kinds of drama. The speeches, the thing in Germany.”

“Okay, so he’s a full-tilt diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built in the skies with his name plastered…” Tony trailed off. “Huh. Who does that remind you of?”

“Besides you?” Clint asked, grinning.

“Stane,” Natasha realizes. “Stark Tower. It runs on the arc-reactor. They have the patents for the arc-reactor. Would that be the power source he needs?”

“That’d do nicely,” Tony agreed. “We have to go.”


	47. okay, not a real chapter but i feel like i gotta update you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> read below.

hey guys, so i know I haven't updated in a while but this is /not/ abandoned. I ran into writer's block and then got the brilliant idea to write a prequel to put my energy elsewhere. I think it's pretty cool, but it's adding a depth to the characters I wasn't ready for and upon observation, I feel like I gotta update and write more into this monster. Add what I missed, do some editing to match with the prequel, etc. Also, it'll give me a chance to work through the block and kick out a chapter.

Hope y'all understand and leave comments if u wanna know more!

love you all! Hope to get some results to you soon!


	48. sneak peek of what I'm working on for you guys! (consider it thanks for all the support!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! Just want to give you an early Thanksgiving gift of a sneak preview of the prequels I'm working on or the kids! (If you don't recognize a name, it's probably an OC (foster parent or child)). I'm not quite done, and what you see is, in fact, subject to change, but I just thought you guys deserve a little something for all your patience and supporting comments! Enjoy and comment what you think (or any questions)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for parent death (not on the screen, mostly just mentioned) and brainwashing and the like. If you think i need more warnings, comment it!

**MATT:**

After about… maybe a month of living in the new house, Matt’s getting chased down by several angry drug dealers with guns and trips on the edge of a building and falls into a dumpster.

It’s gross. The mass he’s in is squishy and the stench makes him want to fry his nose off, but he’s on an adrenalin rush right now and needs a second to calm down so he stays still.

The dealers didn’t see it though, deciding unanimously that he got away. They disperse easily and Matt sighs and tries to breathe through his mouth more than his nose.

He’s been in his dumpster for about five minutes when someone above him curses, hits the opposite wall, springs back and twists like a cat, and lands hard in Matt’s dumpster too. After some squirming, the other boy sighs in defeat.

“Hey, get your own trashcan,” Matt says, scowling because he was here first.

“Huh?” the boy says, twisting to find Matt.

“I said get your own trashcan,” Matt repeats.

“Hey, I’m deaf and I can’t read your lips in this light,” the boy explains. “Any chance you know sign language?”

“I’m blind!” Matt said loudly. He can’t read sign language because he can’t see it. What he can hear, however, is electronic buzzes in the boy’s ears, confirming his words.

“Oh,” the boy said awkwardly. “Uh, how about we get out of the trashcan?”

They both struggled out of the mess, trash falling off them. The boy reached out and flicked a banana peel off Matt’s shoulder. In turn, Matt located something incredibly too smelly on the teen and threw it in the trashcan. A sock.

“Aw, clothes,” the boy sighed, and looked up at Matt. “Uh, I think there’s a laundromat around the corner. Wanna get our stuff cleaned and chat?”

Matt wasn’t sure exactly, so he shrugged. He was debating in his head, worried the teen would be another Electra. He seemed less graceful if the fall of the building was anything to go by.

“I’m Clint.”

“...Matt,” he replied. Making a decision, he pulled off his mask and offered his arm. There was a brief explanation of how to properly lead a blind person, but Clint was quick to get the hang of it and they made good time to the laundromat.

Clint seemed to have no problem stripping down, but Matt was more hesitant. Eventually he relented and shucked off his clothes, putting them in with Clint’s load. They go and sit in the back, waiting.

“So, uh, how’d you end up in the dumpster,” Clint asked.

Matt sighed. “I was being chased. By dealers. And I tripped.”

“Huh,” Clint said thoughtfully. “I just kinda fell.”

“Good fall,” Matt offered. 

“Thanks. I used to be in the circus. Used to fall off the tightrope all the time.”

Matt tipped his head. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. It was cool,” he said. “What about you?”

“Oh, I go around beating the snot out of criminals,” Matt said casually, grinning.

“Dude, cool.”

Matt blinked. “You believe me?”

“Uh, sure?”

Matt hesitated. “But I’m blind. No light perception,” he insists cautiously.

“Yeah, dude, I see it,” Clint said. He leaned a bit, sort of cupping his face and putting his thumbs sort of near Matt’s eyes to get a better view. Matt resists the urge to swat his hands away. “They don’t do  _ anything _ , dude. But, like, I dunno. I can’t hear but now I have aids and can. You can’t see, but you must have something that helps.”

“That’s… very perceptive,” Matt notes, surprised.

“Your eyes might be shit, but mine are my best feature,” Clint teases. 

“Your ears might be shit, but mine are my best feature,” Matt mimics and he can’t help but laugh when Clint does.

 

* * *

 

 

**NATASHA:**

Natasha leaves to go get the tiger or at least let someone know about it. She could play the ‘ _ It got out itself, I didn’t know tigers were so smart _ ’ routine. It works on stupid people and, well, it’s a circus.

Was that rude? That was rude. Okay, circus’s have lovely people, many of whom are certainly smart, but sometimes dumb teens sell popcorn for a quick buck.

After a while of fruitless searching, Natasha gives up. Since the circus had been pretty much abandoned, she steals some soda, a stick of rock candy, and goes into a deserted tent to kill time. Because she wants to.

After ten minutes, the goddamn tiger walks in with its mouth crammed full of a multicolored mess of cotton candy. It looks like it slaughtered a damn cloud.

Sighing, Natasha watches it consume its fluffy kill. Stupid tiger. It didn’t even go after the drumsticks that they sell. Or any hot dogs. Meat in general. She pulls off her wig and drops it in the bleachers. She finishes her treat and watches the large cat tear up the cotton candy. A noise to the right of her makes her aware of a presence, but she doesn’t act on it, simply considers the tiger.

Then she moves. So fast that the boy, a scruffy looking blonde, the performer, the archer, can’t do anything but blink up at her in surprise.

She’s not here to kill anybody so she just raises her fist ready to strike.

His hands come up and she eyes him, but the boy doesn’t fight or push her off. Instead, he signs in Signed Exact English. Oh, he’s hearing impaired. Maybe deaf.

He gives a thumbs up and an awkward ‘sorry.’

She considers him and then slides off his chest, hands coming up to reply. (For what?)

(Interrupting alone time?)

Oh. The boy thought she needed a minute and hid out. Okay. Good. (Why are you here?)

(I’m following Nagia.) He points after the tigress. “Oh, fuck,” he says aloud, though it sounds vaguely off.

(What?)

(She’s gone. She’s eating all the cotton candy and scaring people off.)

Natasha shrinks a bit, guilty. She didn’t want to have that happen. She just wanted the cat to scare the one guy. (I did that. Sorry.)

(You let her out?!)

(Yes. I wanted him to scare a guy.)

(Why?!)

(My reasons.)

(Well, if you let the tiger just go free, what did you do with the guy?!)

(Let’s just say he’s hanging around. So… I’m gonna go. Thanks for the chat.)

(Wait!)

She pauses. 

(I’m C-L-I-N-T. What’s your name?)

(N-A-T-A-S-H-A. See you later C.) It was probably a bad idea to give names, but she doesn’t expect the boy to really remember her or single her out for some cops.

 

* * *

 

 

**SAM:**

On top of his worry about mutating and having to face that, he was mad because he was no different from a regular human, even if he sprouted horns, controlled an element, could read minds or whatever nonsense might happen to him. It made him so mad that he decided to go to a protest, to start advocating because it wasn’t fair that Sam had restricted medical rights, that in some states people could refuse him service.

At eight, he went to his first protest alone. He took the bus, poster in his bag as he wrung his hands nervously as he waited for his stop.

It was a mutant rights protest. There were people with the same green wristbands as Sam, people who wore purple ones to show that they had mutated but it wasn’t visible, and those with wings and oddly colored skin and animal limbs and wildly colored eyes and on and on who didn’t have to wear a band marking them as mutant because it was visible to the naked eye. There were regular humans too, with bare wrists and posters calling for total equality. 

It went fine until some police officers got a little antsy and decided the protest needed breaking up and fired tear gas at the mix of mutants and activists. Sam decided it was best to get out of there quickly, and did so after helping a few people out of the way of the following evacuation.

His foster parents recommended he be moved and he was soon after.

This one… was different. Sam knew that as soon as he arrived with his trash bag full of clothes and backpack full of books and his stuff. The man was, first of all, pretty tall. Second of all, missing an arm, a leg, and an eye. His eyepatch stood out starkly against the scarred side of his face, and Sam could see that the scars, maybe a burn, trailed up along the side of his neck and face to under his hat, which was covering some more damage.

Sam blinked at him, a little surprised. He kinda thought he’d be with another couple, not one guy. His house was nice though. It looked like a duplex, cars on either side of the building in individual driveways. It looked like the man's house was the rightmost.

“It looks worse than it feels,” the man joked. “Hey, bud. I’m Riley. Nice to meet you.”

 

* * *

 

 

**TONY:**

A week after he arrives, he’s put into high school.

“Wait, what?” Tony says. “Come again? I could have sworn you just said you signed me up for high school. But I might have hearing damage because what the literal fuck.”

“Well,” Amanda said promptly. “We did. I might have been staying home this week, but we actually both have jobs and can’t have you staying home alone when I go back to work. It’s not safe, and it’s not legal,” she says.

“I am literally a genius and college graduate,” Tony says. “I have a Ph.D.”

“I know, which should make your freshman year all the easier,” Amanda says pointedly.

“Unbelievable,” Tony scoffs and goes downstairs. He’s pissed. This isn’t fair and makes no fucking sense. He went to MIT and graduated with Rhodey. He is beyond beginning high school again. He skipped elementary and parts of middle school, and thank god he isn’t going to one of those, but high school was hell the first time and he doesn’t look forward to repeating the experience.

A twinge of pain comes from his chest and he rubs absently.

Probably just a buildup of plasma or something. Loose wire. Or growing pains. Metal doesn’t grow with bone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

School is boring as shit and horribly repetitive. The only thing it’s good for is…. Vending machines in the cafeteria. And wearing some of his favorite clothes.

So, Tony does himself a favor and ignores literally everything about everything.

He’s in math class, which is probably irony in and of itself when he cracks, unable to take knowing the answer before the teacher has even repeated the problem aloud. He pulls out his laptop and starts designing things that are actually challenging. Clean energy stuff, body armor, new computers, and phones. He puts in some earbuds to tune the lesson out.

“Tony, do you care to tell us what you're doing?” Miss Boring-me-out-of-my-mind says, pulling his earbud out like  _ what the fuck _ .

Tony snatches it back. “Designing stuff,” he replies tightly. “Cause I’m bored.”

“Bored?” she says, raising her voice. “Oh, so you know all there is to this, do you?”

Tony can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, sorry, it sounded like you think I don’t.”

“Oh, if you’re such a smart guy, why don’t you solve the problem on the Promethean.”

“That dinosaur?” Tony says incredulously. “Uh, ew.”

“Ew?”

“I’m not trying to be mean, but, that thing can’t process for crap and the precision makes me want to stab myself in the eye.”

“It doesn’t matter if you like it or not, you’ll be going to the board and correctly answering the question.”

“Okay, first, since when are we even going to be using math like this, I sure haven't and I’m an engineer. Second, I hate 2D projection technology. What is this, a drive-in movie?” Tony pauses. “I don’t yet have a three, but I’m full of complaints and you’ll hear another soon enough.” Tony snaps twice. “JARVIS, give me the goods, lickety-split.”

“Yes, sir.” JARVIS types out and blue throws itself in the air and hovers around his desk. Tony pulls his thin tablet pen out of the side and starts scribbling brief equations and simplifying the problem into a neat answer.

“34 over 7,” Tony concludes. “Or, in decimal form, 4.85714286.” The class stares at him. “And again, I have, like, never used this math practically. So everybody forget it as soon as you pass the quiz on it, it’s irrelevant.”

He’s sent into the hall and like, why was that a punishment? Like, what? Oh no, he’s disrupting my class by wanting to be left alone to do his own thing, I might as well give him exactly what he wants and somehow frame it as a punishment?

Public school was weird.

~~~~~

_ Milliondollerbaby: lol, im in fucking high school again _

_ Rocketman: me too, but im also in football so i got that goin for me _

_ Milliondollerbaby: wtf why we hate football what r u a jock ew no stop platypus why _

_ Rocketman: i was bored. I went to try outs and got in but i didn’t mean too. Only good thng is it gets me out of the house and is good exercise _

_ Millondollerbaby: do you want a concussion? Because that’s how you get a concussion _

_ Rocketman: no no i reinvented my helmet so less chance of that _

_ Rocketman: i made this shit that pads the helmet better, moved kinda like a gyroscope kinda thing its hard to explain but its cool. It rolls ur head aroudn in the stuff so it doesn’t rattle it _

_ Milliondollerbaby: sure jan, but when u get a concussion and cant read bc of docs orders for however many months, don’t come crying to me _

 

* * *

 

 

**_BUCKY:_ **

He gets a day of recovery time before they use the Words on him. They walk him through what was done to him, how they implanted a device in his head, attached to his brain and embedded in it in some cases, that shuts down what makes him _him_ and rewires all that energy into the device, making it act as a person instead.

Bucky stares at the X-Ray, seeing this big metal…. thing covering his cerebral cortex and other parts and bits of his brain with these protrusions and other attachments fanning out. It had a little offshoot to his right temple for the port, little attachments to the inside of his ears that recognized a line of trigger words, and it was also wired into the part of his brain that controlled movement, which just made him feel weird. Wires and bits of metal fanned out to attach to random parts of his brain, connected by thin wires. Once such part was attached to the language part of his brain, for reasons unknown to Bucky but widely discussed between the scientists.

They did it all in four days. Followed by three days unconscious as Bucky healed, with the help of some temporary healing accelerant they gushed excitedly about.

Bucky stared at them, trying to project ‘ _ this is most fucked up thing I’ve ever hear in my life and any past lives I’ve had too _ ’ at them and get them to understand that this is fucking… horrible. This is criminal. This was not consented to, this was a bane on humanity and it was in his own fucking head.

One of the doctors noticed the look and faltered before looking back to his colleagues and managing to ramble some more before petering off and splitting from the group to check some readouts.

The effects of this… device was basically the creation of an artificial person that was waiting for activation at any moment. It’s the most fucked up version of DID or something that Bucky has ever heard of. They put something,  _ someone _ , inside him he can’t get out unless he wants to die.

It’s looking like a pretty good option, except he couldn’t bear to do that to Steve, sweet rage-filled little pill Steve, his best friend who’s loyal to the end. Till the end of the line. That’s what they always said. Till the end of the line.

He goes back to his room with weight on his shoulders he doesn't know how to deal with. He writes it all in his journal, detailing what they told him, and then opens his computer.

The next day Rumlow starts saying something in another language to Bucky and he could feel himself falling, shutting down, shutting…

 

* * *

 

**CLINT:**

Clint slumps in his seat, exhausted and taking deep breaths to ward off a panic attack because he has no idea what the fuck is going to happen to him.  He just stabbed a cop with an arrow! Shit, was he gonna go to juvie for that?

Soon enough they’re at the closest precinct and Clint is lead inside to an interrogation room. They tried to get his bow off, but he still didn’t let them. Fighting and swearing and twisting until they went fuck it and left it be. 

Clint kicked his chair around so he could still sit with his hands behind his back and waited, ready to ignore whatever shitty cop they sent in to question him.

The grunt was a big guy, balding, and he sat all peaceful like. Clint paid attention for a little bit.

‘My name is Detective (something that might start with B).’

Clint didn’t actually give a shit. He glared.

‘Can you (Ewe? Do?) tell (Bell?) me (be?) your (door? more?) name?’

Clint glared harder than ever before.

‘Listen, son (sun?), sea-pee-ess (CPS, SHIT) is going to (too?) come and pick (dick? ew) you up and they(‘ll?) get your information some way (cray?) or another, but it(--) be (see?) easier for both of us if you cooperated.’

Okay, now Clint stops paying attention. CPS.  _ Fuck _ . Clint and Barney ran off to get away from CPS. It’s not like they’re even useful. He didn’t get the outward appearance of being devastated and upset and angry, instead, he looked away, trying to see if he could figure out a way to get out.

No, but at least he didn’t have to look at the idiot in front of him.

When the man shifted suddenly, Clint looked over and ducked warily, keeping eyes on the guy as he got up and left.

He was left alone for probably an hour, maybe an hour and a half, but then another person came in and started asking more questions. Clint ignored them too. Wasn’t hard. One perk of being hearing impaired. He’s actually kind of impressed and downright gleeful that they haven’t figured it out yet.

Getting nowhere, the guy left and Clint was alone for another hour. When the next group, because it was three people, came in, Clint was wary.

A professional looking woman, a shorter woman in casual wear, and a cop.

She looked at Clint for a second, made a face, and turned to the cop. After a heated discussion, he walked over and Clint twisted and turned to see what he was doing behind Clint. Clint quickly realized he was taking the cuffs off and stopped moving, just watching.  When he turned, he startled because the professional looking woman was now sitting on the side of the table he wasn’t paying attention to.

She eyed him and Clint reached to pluck at the string of his bow, carefully eyeing her.

After a minute of looking at her clipboard, she pointed to the other woman, who signed hello.

Clint ducked his head angrily. They found out. Shit. Now he didn’t have a reason to ignore them other than just being an ass. He sullenly repeated the motion and watched the cop facepalm.

She put her hand to her chest, shifted to tap her right index and middle fingers against the top of her other middle and index fingers, brought her pinkie finger to her chin and drew it out, she then held out her right hand, putting her thumb under her ring finger, showed the front of a relaxed fist, then extended her thumb and index finger.

(My name is May.)

Dammit.

She continued. (We are from CPS. What is your name?)

Clint sighed in annoyance and then gave his name sign, mimicking the pullback of a bow while both his hands were curled in the shape of the letter C.

She blinked, confused. (?)

(Name sign) Clint replied grudgingly.

Her expression cleared. (Can you give your real name?)

(No.)

(Why not?)

(Angry. Don’t want to.)

She repeated his name sign (-please. We want to help. We know you don’t have legal guardians. We were told by someone at the circus.)

(Yeah? My fucking brother who ratted me out like an asshole! He’s a fucking orphan too!)

 

* * *

 

 

**STEVE:**

He gets a week of recovery time before he goes to his new high school to finish freshman year. In that week, he’s gotten to know Erskine pretty well.

He’s… unbelievably giving and kind. Steve snuck into the kitchen at one in the morning to rummage around the kitchen, eating bits of this and that. Carrots, chunks of cheese, a slice of ham, down some juice right out of the bottle. He grabs a can of green beans, a can of corn, and a handful of granola bars.

The light flips on and Steve whirls, freezing and almost falling off the countertop where he’s crouched because he wasn’t quite tall enough to get the granola bars.

Erskine yawns and rubs his eyes, blinking at Steve.

A granola bar drops out of Steve’s load and skitters to Erskine's feet. The kitchen isn’t that big, after all. 

He stoops low and picked it up, squinting at it. “Oh, you don’t want these. I don’t even remember when bought these.” He yawned again. “Try the other cabinet, the blue box. I got those last week. They’re chocolate.”

Steve’s heart squeezes in his chest when he opens the other and sees that, yes, there is a blue box and there are chocolate granola bars. He puts down the others and takes five of the new ones, mumbling a ‘thank you’ to Erskine and going to his room to stash it.

It isn’t even mentioned the next day.

Erskine is so nice that it hurts, but Steve doesn’t know how far his kindness extends.

So Steve decides to test the man. He goes out with all his money one day and comes back with twenty dollars, a midline tongue piercing, a barbell eyebrow piercing, and both ears decorated with an industrial piercing, standard and upper lobe, and a helix. Steve turns narrowed eyes on Erskine, daring him to say something. He forged Erskine’s signature on a parental consent form to do it.

Erskine glanced up from his laptop and desk covered in papers and notes, considered, looked back at his laptop and asked if Steve was considering any stones in the future. That’s it.

Steve blinked, unable to figure out a reply. He was expecting a demand for an explanation, to tell him to take them out, but Erskine asked him about his thoughts and plans for the piercings and Steve was so blown away he couldn’t formulate a reply.

“Maybe,” he choked out, a little off because of the new piercing in his mouth, and fled to his room because to be honest his face hurt and he wanted to suck on an ice cube to keep the swelling in his tongue down.

The swelling went down after a few days and Erskine was happy to help make him smoothies until he could eat regular foods again.

 

* * *

 

 

**BRUCE:**

Bruce cleared his throat. “Um, thanks for taking me in,” he offered awkwardly.

“Not a problem, Robert,” the man offered and Bruce just about flinched. He had honestly forgotten he had a first name. He sure hadn’t forgotten how his father used it. Usually with swears in the form of nouns.

“I prefer Bruce, actually,” he corrected. “I’ve, ah, never liked Robert.”

“Oh, sure, sorry,” Theo apologized. “So, uh, India. How was that?”

“Oh it was nice,” Bruce said. “Dusty, but nice. It was fun to see a bunch of people crammed on a moped occasionally. The food is good. Lots to see. Holi was fun, Diwali is pretty neat too. I was in Delhi for that once. Oh, and Ganesh Chaturthi had pretty amazing parades in Mumbai.” Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Hm!” Theo responded, interested. “Did a lot of traveling?”

“You would not believe the calluses on my feet,” Bruce agreed. “I outgrew my shoes and couldn’t afford new ones.”

Speaking of which, he hadn’t put them on since he got here. He was provided the shoes, but as soon as they could be off they were. He wiggles his toes.

Theo nodded in causal understanding. “So, we’re working on getting you in a nearby school, but you’re a bit old for a fourth-grade class,” he says. “The social worker told us you had… average grades in third, so we’re having a bit of difficulty finding a class for your age and education level.”

“I’m not dumb,” Bruce said calmly. “Nor do I have a learning disability.”

“No, of course not,” Theo hastened. “But-”

“I’m actually quite smart,” Bruce put in lightly. “Those grades… weren’t my full effort, in a way. I could be put in sixth easily and have no problems.”

Theo had a mildly doubtful look on his face.

“My dad… didn’t like when I excelled in my classes, so I stopped,” Bruce explained delicately. “If you looked at my grades before then it would be obvious. I was encouraged to skip, but my mom refused.”

Theo looked hesitant and considering. 

“I taught myself to speak Hindi,” Bruce offered in the little bit of proof it was.

“I’ll see what I can do. Maybe contact someone who can measure the level you’re at.”

“Thank you.”

Bruce went to his room and meditated. Which sounds dumb, from an outside perspective, but is actually quite nice. To just be, clearing his mind, relaxing. Hulk was more antsy about it, telling him to do stuff and go look at stuff and maybe read or go explore, but Bruce is able to get to a level of totally unique calmness that makes Hulk kinda sleepy which is relaxing in its own was. It’s like a horrible cycle of calmness.

Eventually, he breaths out and opens his eyes and goes to, yes, do something. He investigates the house until he finds a bookshelf and picks something out to read.

Yes! Story! Hulk insists.

I’m reading for me, right now, not for you, Bruce says.

Hulk listen anyway, Hulk says, pouting.

Fine, you do you.

Bruce read for a while and stole the book away to his room.

That particular phrasing isn’t exactly wrong, though he knows realistically it’s borrowing. He’s not proud of it, but in India, it’s sometimes hard to come by food or fresh water so he’s gotten pretty quick fingers over the years. Again, not something he’s proud of, but he never stole from those who were less fortunate.

So, in the presence of his first real English book back in the USA, he took it to his room and kept it there without asking. The Book Thief. The irony was something that Bruce recognized yet again, but it was a very, very good book.

 

* * *

 

 

**RHODEY:**

Tony was a constant presence however, reminding him how his parents were proud, how they visited every chance they got and spoiled him rotten, how much they loved Rhodey. It made Rhodey cry every goddamn time, but hell if it didn’t make him feel better. 

It helped, Rhodey would admit guiltily, knowing that Tony had been through the same thing when his mother and Jarvis died. Tony knew how it felt to lose everything because Maria and Jarvis were everything to Tony. His relationship with Howard was icy at best and hostile at worst.

Tony got Rhodey off his ass, he whooped and clapped when he graduated, kept in constant contact, even as Rhodey was shipped off to New York to meet his foster family.

He was nervous as shit but tried not to let it show. He’s got his parents flags, clothes, his computer, tablet, phone, a box of parts, his toolkit, and Butterfingers and U. Why Tony gave him his bots is, technically, beyond Rhodey, but he knows that it means a lot to Tony that he take care of them. They were… gestures of best-friendship. Their platonic love for each other.

They were also gigantic pains in the asses. Butterfingers lived up to his name and U liked to watch it all happen. Rhodey could tell that she loved every second of it.

So…

Foster house. He felt horribly out of place, sitting in a bed that was for him but wasn’t his, in a relatively empty room. It was too quiet, but he didn’t want to leave the safety of his room.

Rhodey put U and Butterfingers on the floor, letting the bots roll around and explore. He unpacked, almost stepped on Butterfingers, and went downstairs again.

The foster parents, Stephanie and Amanda, were nice. They were, but it felt way too soon to have anyone be called his parents, even legally, so Rhodey didn’t really know how to react to them. 

Rhodey sat on the couch uncomfortably and pulled out his phone. After Rhodey’s parents died, Tony switched Rhodey to his mobile plan. It was exceedingly good, better than anyone else's, he’d say.

_ Rocketman: house is nice. _

_ Milliondollerbaby: that’s good. what about the dudes? _

_ Rocketman: ladies. Lesbians. Nice, so far. _

_ Milliondollerbaby: sweet. how's the kids? _

_ Rocketman: ur bots are fine. how’s j _

_ Milliondollerbaby: excellent. sentient, u kno, the works _

_ Rocketman: this sucks _

_ Milliondollerbaby: i know, hunny bunny, but i got ur back kk? _

_ Rocketman: i got u. thx _

 


	49. don't get your hopes up yet, not actually fic, minor update!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey guys just checking in more or less! I've got some cool-ish news, I think!

_Okay, so I know I don't like it when my fic authors post updates like this, so I'll sweeten the pot with the promise of some sneak peaks into the prequels along with my update here. So, I have five of the kid's stories more or less completed (more or less because they are constantly being edited as I work on the others or when I get new ideas. otherwise, they could be considered done). That leaves just four more (of various stages of completion)! I also did some brainstorming and decided that the prequel will have ten chapters, one for each kid and one for their adventures in high school before they decide to run away. I'm pretty proud of what I have so far, so I hope you like what I have when I post it. I'll post the kid's stories as soon as they're all done, which means chapter ten might be posted later._

_(I've also changed some things up, so the previous sneak peak may no longer be quite as valid.)_

_I bet you're all wondering why it's taking so long, but the short of it is that I have school and homework takes forever. Also, writer's block. It took me so long to figure out what Rhodey's story should be because he really doesn't have a cool backstory like all the other characters in MCU. Like... he's just Tony's friend, and Tony gave him the suit. He doesn't have a tragic backstory or anything, and they never say anything about his life outside of the army and being War Machine/Iron Patriot, or, at least, nothing stuck with me. But I had a brilliant idea that connected to Iron Man 2 in a way. Those who have seen the movie know that (spoilers if you haven't seen it) after Tony makes a dumbass of himself, Rhodey sort of teams up with Justin Hammer. Now, the relation in my story is that the Hammer family fosters Rhodey! I don't want to give too many spoilers, but I came up with it after sitting on the story for ages, so I personally think it's brilliant!_

_So, that's what's up! If you have any questions, I'll be happy to answer them! Now, to the sneak peeks!_

 

**Rhodey:**

Rhodey did feel bad for him. Justin’s designs were constantly sub-par. He raced through the math, usually getting things right, but ten percent of his equations had the wrong outcome and that messed up little bits of each thing Justin worked on. Sometimes the shapes of his designs weren’t conductive for efficiency either.

So, as Rhodey worked on a drone because U wanted something to fly, Justin worked on a human-shaped robot about a foot tall that held small weapons. He meant for the robots to eventually be used as small infiltrators, to get into fortified and guarded hideouts, but it was… bad, and badly programmed.  Rhodey didn’t say anything, because Justin seemed sensitive and like he didn't want help, but as soon as U lifted off the ground with a delighted squeal, zipping about the room as Rhodey cautiously explained how U could fly it and how the buttons and steering worked, Justin seemed to break down like a twig in a mulcher.

“GOD DAMMIT!” Justin shouted and threw his robot across the room, where it slammed into the wall and broke into three pieces.

Butterfingers beeped in horror and screamed across the room, cowering under the bed. U screamed and backed the drone into the wall, where it stuttered and tilted toward the floor. He then proceeded to struggle to get out of the drone.

“It didn’t have an AI!” Rhodey shouts at the terrified bots that were starting to freak out. “It was like a toaster, not like you, stop freakin’ out!” Rhodey helped U out of the done and watched him cower under the bed, each bot beeping wildly at one another.  “Justin!” Rhodey snapped, whirling around. “You just scared the  _ fuck _ out of my bots, what the hell is the matter with you!?”

“Don’t be an idiot, all your designs work and I can’t even make my stupid robot walk forward! You made that drone for your bot in like two hours and I’ve been working on that piece of crap for over a week! It isn’t fair!”

“That’s life!” Rhodey says harshly. “Shit doesn’t work your way all the time! That doesn’t give you the excuse to throw shit and scare my bots! They thought you killed a bot like them!”

Justin looked a little guilty and he sighed. “Alright, fine, sorry. I just… dad’s not happy with my designs, and I’m trying for this… student science/tech fair thing. I want to get the blue ribbon so he doesn’t think I’m a failure.”

Now Rhodey really felt bad for Justin, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. That’s an okay reason. Don’t  _ ever _ do it again or I’ll kick your skinny white ass out of my room, but okay.” Rhodey thought for a minute and went over to pick up the parts of the robot.  Rhodey realized the kind of pressure Justin felt, to live up to his father and the company he’d likely inherit, and Rhodey also realized that Justin felt like a failure, so he felt bad the guy, which sparked his next words, “I’ll help you.”

 

**Tony:**

“I’m moving you to a new house,” the CPS agent announced. 

“All the better reason to clean this mess up.”

Five hours later, under the stare of the CPS agent, Tony slapped the new reactor into the port and groaned as he felt the new power and efficiency of the reactor. It was kind of overwhelming. “Tastes like coconuts… and metal,” he ground out.

Tony had the equipment shipped to a promising college in Virginia with a brief note punctuated by a smiley face and the fact that it was only used once. He fixed up everything in the basement, of course, and got his shit packed.  Luckily, the school year was basically over, just one last week to go, so he missed having to take high school finals for the second time.

The next house was nice. His foster parent was this old couple who had never had kids and were regretting it mildly, to the point where they just wanted to get a damn kid in the house so they could push them out again.

He was sitting at the dining room table, texting Rhodey.

_ Milliondollerbaby: i dont wanna say theyre old but theyre like sixty or smth _

_ Rocketman: nice. Mine r young, like thirties _

_ Milliondollerbaby: that’s old 2 you creten _

_ Milliondollerbaby: if i ever get to thirty i want you to shoot me so my youthful face can be memorialized on the tabloids _

_ Rocketman: lol gettin old aint that bad, like, can u imagin being 10 again _

_ Milliondollerbaby: ew. Point. _

_ Rocketman: like, u could rock a cool beard. _

_ Rocketman: u can’t now, but when u grow facial hair that isn’t peach fuzz _

Tony rubbed the fuzz in question and narrows his eyes. Rude.

_ Milliondollerbaby: rude. _

_ Rocketman: lol, and eugh, there’s construction on my road and it is so annoying, im tryin to read for the summer proj thing and i could be done already _

_ Milliondollerbaby: ew, same. Not the hw, but construction. _

_ Rocketman: they’re replacing pipes _

_ Milliondollarbaby: same. _

_ Rocketman: … _

_ Rocketman: hey, what street do u live on _

_ Milliondollerbaby: idk, Rosehill or smth why _

_ Rocketman: is there a bright pink punchbug anywhere on that street _

Confused, Tony checks out the window, feeling a growing sense of apprehension at seeing the car Rhodey described.

_ Milliondollerbaby: yes why _

Tony waits for a reply and is surprised when it comes from outside in the form of a loudly slamming door and a shouted “Tony!”

Tony runs out of his seat, practically rips the door open, and shouts, “Rhodey?!”

There, three houses down, in a stupid yellow polo shirt that Tony finds himself loving, stands a frazzled looking Rhodey. Tony almost falls down the steps as Rhodey bolts at him, arms outstretched.

They slam together way too hard, Rhodey kind of bowling Tony over, but Rhodey spins them just right so Rhodey himself takes most of the fall.

Tony grabs Rhodey’s face. “I didn’t come up with anything to say to you so I’m gonna have to settle with I love your face, no homo,” Tony says. Rhodey laughs hard enough that Tony has to start laughing too.  


**Natasha:**

_ “I don’t give a damn ‘bout my reputation!”  _ Natasha shouts into her hairbrush.  _ “Livin’ in the past, it’s a new generation! A girl can do what she wants to do and that's what I'm gonna do! An' I don't give a damn ' bout my bad reputation! _ ”

She dances, hands up and jumping to the rock on her bed. She’s got a gun strapped to her thigh and the bulletproof vest on. She’s got a baseball hat on backward and aviators on too.

_ “Oh no! Not me! An' I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation! Never said I wanted to improve my station! An' I'm only doin' good when I'm havin' fun an' I don't have to please no one! An' I don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation!” _

She jumps from the bed to the table to the couch, flipping off it and shouting the lines.

The door opens and Natasha has a gun aimed and the safety off in seconds.

The Instructor looks at her so tiredly. “Why can’t you be like the other Widows, Natalia? Your skills are extraordinary, but you waste your time doing all of- this!” she gestures to the room, Natasha, the walls, the media station, her skateboard.

Oh, perfect timing actually.

“Cuz-  _ I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation! I've never been afraid of any deviation! An' I don't really care if ya think I'm strange, I ain't gonna change! An' I'm never gonna care 'bout my bad reputation!” _

At the even more exhausted and frustrated look, Natasha shrugs and turns down the music a bit. “I don’t want to be an emotionless drone with a boring personality and shitty interpersonal abilities. Have you seen the other girls? Ask them who Batman is. I dare you.”

A girl looks over the Instructors shoulder and scowls. 

“Hey, you, can you even name this song?”

The girl looks uncertain and then says “It’s not relevant to any mission I’ve taken or likely will take.”

Natasha stares and then yawns obviously. “Do you know how to talk about anything besides missions?”

The girl takes a shot at her suddenly and Natasha dodges, flipping over her coffee table she had reinforced the bottom of with bulletproof glass and dropping behind it. She fires a shot and it rips through the girl's shoulder.  “I’m sorry that trying to kill people is all you know and it’s boring!” Natasha said. “I’m not sorry for shooting you!”

The girl swears in Russian and is escorted away by the Instructor.

**Steve:**

A few weeks later, around Valentine's day, Erskine comes home early.  Steve had gone to school that day, and  Erskine generally gets home an hour after Steve does, but when Steve goes to unlock the door he finds it already open. Surprised, Steve pushes inside and ditches his bag.  He checks the living room and then heads to the kitchen. Erskine is sitting at the kitchen table in a t-shirt, sweatpants, and is drinking a bottle of something.

“Doc?” Steve asks. “Why’re you home early?”

Erskine looks up at him and grimaces. He puts the bottle down and sighs, rubbing his face. “Hello, Steven. There was… an incident at work. A break in, really.” Erskine rubs his face. “I have had- day was elongated.”

“You had a long day,” Steve corrects mildly, sitting at the table too. “You okay?”

“Ja. The men, they had guns, a few security officers are in critical condition, many are dead, but myself and the other scientists were just injured. I was- grazed, here,” He touches his side. “They took our research. Everything.”

“Shit,” Steve said meaningfully.

“Ja. They escaped before the police arrived, but it will take ages to replace what we have lost and I can only be thankful that we were nowhere near testing phases, so what those men stole will only harm them.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s good, but shit. Doc, you could’ve  _ died _ . Why didn’t you call the school to get me?”

Erskine made a little gesture. “It happened early, by the time everyone was taken to the hospital and seen to… <I was tired and wanted to go home. No need to bother you when you would be home in half an hour anyway.>”

“You could have died!” Steve repeats.

<Yes! You think I am drinking my peach schnapps for no reason? Bah! I want to finish this bottle and go to bed.>

“Y’should eat something too,” Steve adds. “Here, I’ll make some grilled cheese or something. Y’got any meds you need to take?”

<No. Well, none that go well with alcohol.>

“Then maybe you should stop drinking. The alcohol,” Steve said lightly and pulled it from Erskine’s fingers. Erskine sighs and relents. Steve caps the bottle and puts it back in the fridge. He rummages around for bread and cheese and puts it on the counter, making them both an extremely early dinner. He finds a carton of tomato soup and puts that on too.

After they eat, Steve puts on a movie, Mars Attacks!, and they sit in relative silence until bedtime.

“We had developed another injection,” Erskine mentions as the characters run from an alien. “It was experimental, a medical solution that speeds up healing in a subject. It was almost complete, actually. It had worked in our lab rats, after all, but we weren’t yet sure of its effects on humans. I almost wonder what those men will do with it, if it does work.”

Steve hums. “S weird. Y’think you can make it again?”

“Perhaps. I developed it once, I don’t see why we can’t again. I am uncertain of the super soldier project, after that break in it might be deemed too risky.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Steve mentioned. “Can you imagine how crazy it'd be to have two super soldiers fightin’ each other? Probably be like watching two tanks go at it.”

Erskine huffs a laugh. “Perhaps.”

 

**Clint:**

He learned the next day that Thomas was some kind of semi-professional golf player when he decided to take Clint to meet his buddies and teach Clint how to play.  It was hot and sunny and the greenery was nice, but he’d rather be reading or watching a movie with subtitles. Tomas put a baseball hat on Clint's head and Clint gave him an offended look and gave it back. It diminished his sight range. What if something came from above? What would he do then?

The other golfers, Ren, Ted, Bill, and Mike, seemed okay, but Clint could tell they were speaking to him loudly on account of Clint not being able to understand their exaggerated mouth movements.

Clint shrugged them off and crossed his arms.

Bill brought out the notepad.

(Ready to learn?)

-Sure,- Clint said. -Whatever.-

The golf range was big and open, which Clint appreciated, but the game in and of itself was pretty easy. Get the ball in the hole with the least amount of hits. This was an accuracy game, Clint’s specialty.

Tomas showed him how to hold the club, how to swing right, and let him hit a ball into the woods as a test. With all the information he needed, Clint muttered, -This is going to be so boring.-

Everybody else went first and then it was Clint’s turn. He took position, felt the breeze, eyed his target, brought the club back and swung, taking the ball cleanly off the tee.

Hole in one. Not surprising.

Tomas was proud and started bragging at his buddies, who laughed and said Clint caught ‘beginners luck’ once or twice, but it was just… trajectory. Angles. Wind resistance. Easy stuff. That first hit, the test, made it easy. Gave him a sense of how it was supposed to work and how it moved.

Or the first two holes it was beginners luck. For holes three to five, natural talent. Six to eight got no comments. Eight to eighteen, a cause for resentment. The semi-pros were pretty fucking mad that this kid with no training beat them with no goddamn problem.

Thomas bid them goodbye and they got into the car.

‘Clint, are you sure you’ve never played before?’ Tomas asked with a weird look on his face. He quickly turned to face the road again.

Clint sighed and scowled. -Yes, I’ve never played before. Okay? I don’t know what you were expecting, in the circus I was a marksman. Hitting targets is what I do. You gave me a target and I hit it, what more do you want?-

Clint didn’t want a response, not really, so he looked out the window and when Thomas tapped his shoulder, Clint moved his arm away and glared at passing houses and trees.

Thomas didn’t take him golfing again.

 

**Bruce:**

Betty finishes cooking the mac and cheese and serves them both bowls. “Was your f- no, never mind, of course he was, but, like, what happened? Is that rude to ask?”

Bruce bit his lip and shrugged. “A lot of things happened,” Bruce said mildly, taking his fork. “There was a lot of pain. He hit my mother, often in front of me. Not always with his fists, either. There was glass, and… He beat me with a hammer a few times. There was… the basement. He used to lock me under the stairs, sometimes.”  Bruce’s memories brought the same fear and uncomfortable itching in his skin and with that, Hulk pushed into control and the fork bent in his hands like tin foil. Hulk wrapped an arm around the bowl of food and pulled it closer defensively.

“Big mean man,” he growled. “Gave gross food in basement. Trash. Rats bit to get food. Hated mean man.”

Hulk tried to bend the fork back into shape, but with the strain already placed on the metal, it snapped. Hulk immediately felt bad and held it out to Betty in apology.

She was making a strange face at him and took it, but didn’t seem angry, only perplexed. “I’ll get you a new one, Hulksie,” she rounded the table and kissed the top of his head. “Just be a little more careful with them, okay?”

“Kay.”

“Don’t forget to let Bruce out soon.”

Hulk huffed. “Scared. Don’t want out. Protect puny Banner.”

Betty handed him a new fork. “And you do a wonderful job.”

Later, Betty would mention to Bruce, “Your eyes change color when Hulk takes over. They're a very bright green instead of soft brown.”

**Sam:**

A few months later, Riley got him presents for Christmas instead of just a stocking of candy and stuff. Sam was so surprised, he asked three times to confirm that they were in fact for him.

Riley looked sadder each time he asked, so Sam dropped it. He got an owl stuffed animal, some matchbox cars, a few books, a birdhouse kit and paints, a Calvin and Hobbes comic book, a fancy notebook with pens, a DS and a few games, a cool multi-tool, and some new clothes. 

“Thank you!” Sam said enthusiastically.

“You’re welcome bud. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. Oh! I made you something,” Sam said. “Wait here.” He ran to his room and pulled out the pop up book he made at school during recess. He usually stayed inside with the teacher's aid, so he made a bird book specifically for Riley. It had about twenty birds in it, all native to New York, with their names and pictures. It was tied up and had some badly folded wrapping paper on it, but it was good enough.

He ran back to Riley and thrust it into his hands. “Open it!”

Riley grinned and did. He opened the little book and laughed in delight at the pictures. Sam had copied them from computer screens, holding a piece of paper over it and sketching the general shape before going back to color it. 

The very last page made Riley tear up.

_ ‘Thank you for being the best big brother anyone could ever ask for! Your the best! Love, Sam’ _

“I love it,” Riley choked out and hugged Sam.

Sam startled badly and Riley drew back, looking concerned. “What’s wrong bud? Y’don’t want me to hug you? That’s okay, by th’ way-”

“No!” Said Sam hastily, because it was nice. Riley was warm and Sam felt secure and that was strange. “I’ve just never earned one before, I’m not used to it, sorry.”

Riley’s face fell and Sam put his arms around Riley so he didn’t have to look at it because Sam doesn't even know why Riley did that. Riley hugs him tight and Sam sighs, sinking into it.

“Buddy, hugs aren’t earned, they’re given,” Riley says, pained. “I’ll give you as many as you want. As many as you need, okay?”

**Matt:**

His nightlife improves dramatically. He’s got a partner in crime, as it were.

Electra… how can he describe Electra? She’s electric. She’s fast and clever and sassy and a talented fighter. She’s his sparing equal and she’s amazing. She can do just about anything possible and Matt definitely has a crush.  She doesn't hold back, doesn’t tell him he can’t do things or even imply it. She understands his limitations but they never become a problem. She smells like cinnamon and sweat and metal, the metal from her sai. 

During the day, on the weekends, she comes over to his house and asks if he can come and play with her, playing up the ‘I’m his only friend’ card. It works.

Her father is a rich man who owns a prestigious business and a huge house. She takes Matt over a couple of times so they can run around and eat expensive foods and talk about nothing while describing everything. They bounce on the silk-sheeted beds and ramble about crimes they stopped like it was a competition.

“I- stopped-an armed-robbery,” Matt says breathlessly as he bounces as high as he can go.

“And I- stopped- a smuggling -ring,” she replied, using her last jump to bounce down off the bed and pull the sheets out from under Matt, who squeaked and fell back down on the mattress. They rush around like cats playing at midnight, knocking things over, laughing and shouting and talking and trying to sneak up on each other.

He loves her jokes too, a bit dark, but he likes that. 

“How can you tell your acne is really starting to get out of hand?”

“I don’t know. How?”

She grabs his hands and puts them on her cheeks, raising her voice dramatically. “The blind start reading  _ your face _ .”

Matt cracks up.

She accidentally pushes a man off a building once and they both peer down into the alley. Well, Matt put his head over the empty space to hear if he was still breathing.   “‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I apologize’ mean the same thing. Except at a funeral,” she says slyly, and Matt can’t stop laughing despite the weak pained groan from below.

In one instance, when they were investigating some drug trade, the criminals lit the building on fire to kill them and cover up the evidence. Electra shouts “Cremation! My final hope for a smokin’ hot body!”

Matt laughs as he grabs her hand, working on finding them an exit as she remarks “Give a man a match, and he'll be warm for a few hours. Set him on fire, and he will be warm for the rest of his life.”

Matt laughs again and gasps for air, sucking in some smoke and coughing as she laughs and does the same damn thing.

 

**Bucky:**

That marks the point where he doesn’t feel safe sleeping inside. So he takes his bag and a blanket and sleeps on the streets. It feels weird, almost like slum tourism or something, but Bucky doesn’t feel safe in that middle-class home. He’d rather be sitting in this box in an alley, ten feet from a homeless man in a little more than rags.

Well, the alley isn’t too bad. The dumpster is actually for recycling, so it doesn’t smell, and there's just a little glass on the ground. Well, there’s also a needle over there, but just the one. Bucky pulls an apple out of his bag and starts to eat it, zoning out as he stares at nothing in particular.

He remembers the other man and glances over, then balancing the apple on her knee to reach into his bag and grab the orange. He holds it out in offering and the man hesitantly takes it.  “Thank you.”

Bucky nods and goes to finish his apple.

“My name is Amir, what is yours?”

“Bucky,” he replied.

“You are young to be on the streets, yes?”

Bucky shrugs. 

Amir scratches his impressive beard. “I see. You are new to this, yes? You have no home?”

“It’s not safe for me there,” Bucky replies truthfully, but isn’t inclined to elaborate.

“Ah. Well, this alley is big, plenty for two, I think.”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees.

Life on the streets, stopping by the house to pretend like he still lives there by sneaking in, is difficult, but safer than staying at the house. He does his homework at the library, he showers at the school, he uses various restrooms around the town and gets money thrown at him just as much as disdainful looks. He tries to give them their money back, but they insist and Bucky ends up splitting something with Amir.

He usually shadows Amir when he goes somewhere and covers for him when he prays. People keep trying to walk between him and his sutrah, so Bucky urges them around or glares at them until they move.

He stays on the streets despite winter arriving and getting colder. He just gets more blankets and puts on a couple layers of clothes. He puts a tarp over his box and Amir’s and closes the front bit with bits of tape. He wakes whenever he gets too cold and shudders until he gets warm again, adjusting blankets and checking on Amir.

“Happy Hanukkah,” Bucky says with chattering teeth, and Amir laughs.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS AND KUDOS!!!!! If you have suggestions, please leave them!
> 
> PS- if you find a grammar error, pls tell me!


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